See All Evil
by LetsSingtheDoomSong
Summary: Jamie Donovan was just another wallflower. A wallflower that saw & heard everything there was to hear in Rapture. Which would be a perfect asset to any businessman seeking opportunity, like one Mr. Augustus Sinclair, esquire. Sinclair/OC later.
1. Rapture Rising

Dymond: Alright, this has been a story that's had my attention for a while, reading over obsessively & rewriting & adding whatever I could to follow the Bioshock story line. I know I've been neglecting No Rest for the Wicked & Resident Lunatic, but my mind is like fireworks: One brilliant flash & it's gone. I will eventually return to them when I get a good idea, but other than that, don't rush perfection.

Enjoy this work, I guess & say hi to my OC Jamie "Hawkeye" Donovan, just another resident of Rapture.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~(The squiggles would be Houdini Splicers if they ever went to Rapture)

There ain't no side of the tracks more wrong than under them. Pauper's Drop was not a place for people to reside permenantly: it was only hollowed out & flop houses were built for the railway workers when they were building the Atlantic Express Luxury Line all through Rapture. But when you're broke & down on your luck with no where else to turn to, you're not exactly swimming in alternatives. Some businesses had made a living down here, caring for the people of Pauper's Drop, but living here was nothing short of horrible. Murders were constant & the severely spliced & insane had made a home here. No one was safe, not even children. And it was only 1953.

And on most days, I assumed my position leaning against the first 'N' of the King Pawn sign, watching as the beggar & needy moved about like they had no care in the world other than the fact that they are starving to death ever so slowly. It was pathetic really, they moved around like they owned the world & whenever someone like that Sinclair fellow would come around, they hissed at him like he was the vermin. Made me feel bad for the man, 'course I trusted him just about as far as I could throw him. He had a hotel of sorts down here called the Sinclair Deluxe that held anyone who could pay the rent. Rent was cheap, but it wasn't like people here had two nickels to rub together.

The poor & the down-on-their-luckers would arrive at the doors, early in the morning. The tenant would dry their eyes & say it would only be for a little while until they got their lives situated again. Sinclair would just smile & hand them a key to an apartment, tell them their rent & send them on their merry way. A smart man to collect their rent weekly & an even smarter man to own the bar, Sinclair Spirits & cash in the rest of the money the poor soul would spend. And if they weren't spending their money in the bars, they were buying a gene tonic called Plasmids to splice themselves up to look fit, beautiful, shoot electricity, burp fire, spit ice, you name it they probably had it. That resulted in people getting overtly addicted to the drug ADAM & when people didn't get their ADAM, they fell into madness & with the abilities they had gained traveled around Rapture looking for their next fix, killing anyone who got in their way.

Other than that, they would wander their way to Siren Alley, to a whorehouse called the Pink Pearl.

Not that the whores in the Pearl were any different from them.

I guess you could call Siren Alley the red light district of California. Like most of the betties down here, Siren Alley was born originally with a more respectable name, but only God remembers what it was. The Pink Pearl was just a bunch of rooms with a girl assigned to each one by the owner Daniel Wales who was a proper drunk, & definitely cheaper than Eve's Garden in Poseidon. There were even a few rooms that with $5 you could get a show from a few of the girls.

In Eve's Garden, the girls were well cared for & beautiful, classy even; while Pauper's Drop was not to far a cry from any regular street prostitute with a pimp that beat them senseless. Only difference, the Pearl was a place where all the prostitutes would congregate & easier to find. People would come to the Pearl to scratch that itch they're ashamed of, even in a town with no laws.

Unfortunately, one of those whores was my mother, but only God himself could say if she was still alive or not. Perhaps I had lived a happier life before we came to Rapture, but I couldn't remember. All I remember from the start is pain & the bruises coating my arms from my mother, blaming me for my father leaving.

Coming the Rapture didn't help the beatings, but it ceased them for a few months as we settled in. I even sat in the same Bathysphere as Frank Fontaine, one of the biggest names in Rapture. My mother had mostly ignored me on the trip down, but I still remember my 13-year-old self staring at the man's bald head & daring to ask, "Where's your hair?"

My mother was quick to get ready to smack the words right out of my mouth, but Fontaine stopped her. He just smiled & said, "I think I look better without hair? Don't I?"

He gave me a sucker from his suit jacket & patted me on the head. It was grape flavored & it was the best gift I had ever received.

For only a few short months did I live in a small apartment with my mother until one day she just never came back & the name Dusky Donovan ended up whispered in the Pink Pearl, just another whore in the employ of Daniel Wales. No one even remembered little Jamie Donovan or was sure if Jamie ever existed, which I did.

Now, I couldn't pick her out of a crowd if my life depended on it. My mother had abandoned me, leaving to wander around Rapture, looking for 'mommy' until I became another ghost. One of the lost people of Rapture, the ones that society upon. And I was quick to discover that I should trust no one or I'd be another body. Another victim to the splicers that had started to make their appearance at this time.

It's where my life truly began & probably will end. Not a very good life mind you, but a life nonetheless. My 19-year-old life consisted of keeping out of reach of anyone who decided I would be a good grab whether for a sex slave or disappear only to end up another body floating outside the glass structure of Rapture for a passersby to see. I stayed mostly on top of the King Pawn sign to watch the chaos pass below me; only a few months ago I watched as Sofia Lamb & Andrew Ryan duked it out verbally in front of the people of Pauper's Drop about religious freedom & reality. Utilitarian beliefs vs the Free Market beliefs; watched the crowd stand outside of the clinic trying to beat their way in to get the drugs inside (the clinic had enough drugs to splice a rhinosarus, it wasn't surprising that the mob would form); watched as the private investagator sold his pretty expensive research camera that I had little fantasies about buying to research the numerous splicers & see what makes them tick so I could avoid them better.

And when the lights started to dim to simulate the night, I jumped from my perch & made my way to the Limbo Room. The Limbo Room was a small but well kept jazz bar, which was surprising with the chaos of this place. A woman there by the name of Grace Halloway allowed me to stay inside her dressing room for a place to sleep so I wouldn't get my throat slashed. She was a kind woman with a stout heart & a good soul & a beautiful voice that echoed through the PA system with her songs. She even found the love of a man down here; a man who didn't join the race to see who could become less of a man & more of a monster. In fact, he had never touched the stuff so much that it would affect him. The occasional brain boost or sports boost, but not enough to cause one of those Splicers. James was okay in my book.

"Excuse me, ma'am?" I glanced over my shoulder at the devil himself: Augustus Sinclair, esquire.

Augustus Sinclair wasn't necessarily a conman, per ce, but a cunning businessman with an abnormally high intelligence to know that you have to pick a brand name from the writing on the walls. He owned several of the businesses here & knew exactly how to squeeze someone with a fancy hat until he fell in the mud for every dollar he owned. He was a bit on the heavy side with a bit of a muffin top that was sort of stuffed into his black dress pants added with his white shirt, tucked in, clean & proper. He didn't wear a belt, but opted for overall straps, adding to his official working man look. He had his glasses hung around his neck & a necktie, red & yellow striped. His hair was charcoal black, smoothed back to make him appear suave & sophisticated & his dark chocolate eyes entranced the soul & warped the mind into handing over your wallet.

Andrew Ryan always rambled on about the 'Great Chain', where there was no God in the sky, only a chain that we each had a hand on. Any man who said differently either has his hand in your pocket or a gun to your neck. Sinclair had people shelling out the pull that Great Chain for him.

Luckily, I was immune to these affects, having spent years hardening myself to the charms of men like him. If I didn't, I wouldn't be sitting here. I responded, "Yeah?"

Sinclair's lips curved into the famous grin that could charm a shark, "The name's-"

"I know who you are. Let me rephrase my question: What do you want?"

Sinclair adjusted his tie skillfully & rehearsed, "I've been watching you. You're up there almost every day, you see & hear things most people wouldn't. And you know the ventilation ducts like the back of your hand, correct?"

"Sure."

Yeah, I knew the ventilation shafts. It was how I got around & avoided the splicers. Most that would try & follow me would get lost in them very easily & end up another body stuck in the shaft, either broken by a deadfall, lacerated by fanblades or sucked into the vats in the Fisheries. I had no idea where this man was going, but all I could hear was that money was involved & so was the risk of being caught.

"I'm willing to pay good money for any information you can get. Anything down right juicy."

"You don't even know me."

"But I would like to. What's your name?" I chose the silent treatment. "Alright don't tell me. But then I'll have to make up a name for you. Calling you 'Girl' just doesn't fit my tastes." I rolled my eyes & crossed my arms. I had to hear this. "Alright, your name will be Hawkeye."

"Hawkeye?"

"Yeah. You stand on the highest perch you can get to & watch the people around here like a hawk. But I know opportunity when I see it. I like to look a person in the eye when I tell them: You & me kid, we're going places."

Hawkeye? I listened to the word bounce around inside my skull. It wasn't that bad; I actually liked it, not that I would admit it to the man. But I was not about to give this guy the time of day. As I had said, I've dealt with his kind before: business men looking for information at first until they realize your worth & try to sell you to their allies as a bargaining chip. I would disappear before the debate could even finish & they'd never find me. Until the storm had settled, I would remain in the ventilation shafts, then I would come out again. "Good day, Mr. Sinclair," I said turning on my heel to leave.

Sinclair only stood there. He made no motion to grab for me, nor did he look like he was going to say anything to stop me. As I said, the man was way too smart for his own good. I knew he would be back. It was time to disappear once again.

I pushed open the door leading into Limbo Room silently weaving through the numerous tables & chairs that had yet to be cleaned off by the night cleaners. I had wasted enough of my time in the company of Sinclair, now I needed my sleep. I jumped up on the stage & went into the back room where Grace's dressing room was.

I was surprised to find a pillow & a blanket inside, folded neatly on the bench in front of Grace's vanity. I caught sight of my reflection which was a laugh if I could say so. My reflection stared back at me, tired, sad & almost had dead look to it. It was angular, had its exotic features, but other than that I was nothing spectacular to look at. I touched my greasy brown hair that was pulled into a low ponytail & opted to ask Grace for a bath. The woman was so kind that she was only person I could feel comfortable asking without having a shiv in my belly before I could get the question out. I licked my thumb & rubbed off a spot of dirt from crawling in the vents, knowing that it did little for the rest of my face.

I shook my head & threw the pillow on the floor & laid down, wrapping the blanket around me, cocooning myself in the fabric.

_You & me, kid, we're going places.._


	2. Rapture Madness

I found myself sitting on a bridge overlooking the walkway of the Little Eden Plaza in Siren Alley. My legs hanging over the side, my arms crossed & resting against the nearby support bar, my chin resting in the crook of my right elbow. People ignored me mostly, maybe giving me the occasional non-commital glance. Maybe they had believed I was just another hooker's brat, which wouldn't have been far from the truth.

I watched large crates get wheeled under me & through the doors of the Mermaid Lounge where the owner stood with a grin on his face & his wallet in his hand, ready to pay for whatever was in the crates.

Judging from the size, I would have guessed that they were those new automated turrets that people were starting to buy for a security system. It would have made sense for Romans, the owner, to purchase them since the top floor of the Mermaid Lounge had several slot machines, a few tables for playing cards & a bar. If things got rowdy, the turrets would clear the problem up right quick.

"So have you thought my offer over, Hawkeye?"

I almost groaned at the familiar southern drawl.

I flicked my gaze over to Sinclair who stood only 2 feet away from me with one of his cigarettes already balanced between his fingers. An expensive brand from what I could tell; Oxford Clubs. None of those seashell & fish eggs cigars & cigarettes they started selling cheap over at Robertson's Tobaccoria. The smoke smelled almost sweet though, hardly choking that I've come to expect. Of course, he wasn't blowing it harshly in my face like some of the betties at the Pink Pearl would do if they ever saw me around.

"No."

"No, huh? Why is that?"

I shot him a cold look. Did I really have to explain myself to him? To Augustus Sinclair? I chose to say nothing. "And I get the silent treatment again. Are you sure you don't want to work for me? Even if it meant getting you off the street?"

"I'm sure."

"Not even if I gave you a handsome starting fee? And a lodgings out of Pauper's Drop." He had a stack of dollars in his hand, holding it out for me to take if I were to agree. Sure, I was down on my luck & near broke, but it's not like I couldn't find money anywhere else. But that... would hold me over & maybe get me a decent meal at the fishbowl diner...

"I'll think about it." I slipped through the bars of the railing & dropped down to the first floor, leaving Sinclair where he stood.

I didn't understand why he was so persistent to place me in the line of fire just for a bit of information. Sure the information I could get could make or break a company if it had gotten in the right or wrong hands. And Sinclair's hands were the ones that had a finger in everyone's pie. And yet, they were surprisingly clean hands despite where they had been. He was smart, that was for sure, even rivaling that of Ryan without the growing paranoia of everyone around him. And I was contemplating whether or not to make a deal with the Devil.

No, Sinclair wasn't the Devil. Maybe just a demon with a clean shave, but the Devil? No. If anyone was the Devil down here it was Andrew Ryan. From the way the poor are treated, the evidence was there.

"Such a sweet little fish! Wander if she's got any ADAM..." My entire body stiffened at the voice.

There was the familiar clang of metal on metal in a rapid motion, signifying one of those splicers that crawled along the walls & ceilings. They were the newest type of splicer to make an appearance here in the underbelly of Rapture. The residents & the splicers themselves started to call these the 'Spider Splicers' or 'Ceiling Crawlers' due to their ability to crawl along the ceilings almost effortlessly, something no human could do.

I slowly & stiffly looked up at the creature grinning down at me.

He had a bald, misshapen head, a bulging eye, long bony limbs, claw-like fingers, & four toes on each foot. His teeth were small & pointy & spaced far apart in his gums. His clothes were tattered & worn-down, especially at the ends of the sleeves & shorts, likely due to the act of crawling across many surfaces. In each hand, he held a meat hook.

I still couldn't move, even when he let out a maniacal scream & dropped from the ceiling. It circled me, much like a vulture, the hooks clinking against the cold floor as it crawled. "Sweet girly a fraidy cat? A little kitten?" The moment it weaved behind me, my legs finally started to move & I took off running.

I grabbed a railing of a nearby staircase & swung myself up getting a mild head start from my pursuer. "Run, run, run, little girlie as fast as you can!" The thing taunted, crawling quickly along the ceiling after me. People moved out of the way of me or else I would have just ran them over despite how much it would slow me down.

I sprinted over the first bridge I came across only to realize it came to a dead end. I turned toward the door that lead into an apartment & slammed into it, banging my fists against the metal to try & get it open, but no avail. Whoever lived here, locked the door. "Fuck..." I cursed backing up until my lower back hit the railing. I jumped when the splicer thumped on the wood floor of the balcony, his hooks clinking away, warning me of the impending attack.

I ducked out of the way of a wild swing, the meat hook brushing past my ponytail & used that moment of pause to grab the railing & leap over to the other side so I was hanging over the balcony. With a push of my legs, I leapt over to the bridge & had crossed to get where I was. Jumping up & over the railing to land safely on the bridge again, I took off running again, the splicer hot on my heels. I shoved a man out of the way, but into the wall of the building thankfully. Down another set of stairs I went, sprinting toward the Metro Station in hopes that someone would help me since no one here would.

I let out a scream when the hook sliced across my back. I tripped over my own feet & slammed hard against the ground, my head bouncing off the concrete. "Sweet, tasty ADAM..." The splicer muttered. He hovered over me, his hook raised to deliver the killing blow.

Without thinking, I reached up & grabbed the wrist about to come down to kill me & twisted. I heard a sickening snap of the joint & the crawler scrambled back, screaming about his now broken wrist. I scrambled to my feet once again, almost tripping a second time. "GET BACK HERE!" The splicer screamed giving chase as best as he could with a broken wrist.

The Metro station was now out of the question since this thing was hell bent on killing me now. Had to get up high & get into an air vent or else I wouldn't live to see another day. My hand pressed as best as it could to the slice across my back & spine, but there was little one hand could do.

Up another set of stairs I went until I had finally reached the 3rd floor. There! A vent! Finally! With a push of my legs, my hands caught the edge of the vent. It took only a moment to haul myself up & begin crawling through the familiar paths of the air vents that traveled all throughout Rapture. It was a loud bang that alerted me to the crawler still giving chase. His hooks scraped at the metal as he crawled after me, faster than I could by far.

A weapon... I needed a weapon & fast! But something to be used as a weapon in an air vent? Yeah, that's something that pops up every day. I glanced over my shoulder at the creature, hissing & snarling in his fury & lust to kill me. It was no longer about ADAM, it was about getting his pride smashed by a girl who was supposed to be an easy kill & yet she had led him on a merry chase through Little Eden Plaza.

My hand suddenly brushed something that wasn't normal in the vents. A metal pipe. My finders wrapped around the pipe & swung for the splicer who was now nearly on top of me. The pipe smashed in his skull & he let out a wail of agony, the blood flowing from the wound. Another swing to the other side & the splicer fell limp to the floor of the vent.

I let out a shaky breath & dropped the bloodstained pipe. Now panting, I looked around for any more sign that some other splicer heard this one & would come to investigate, but I heard nothing out of the ordinary. With a final shaky sigh, I continued by crawling towards Pauper's Drop with a trail of blood coming from my back, the closest thing I could get to a safe haven down here.

And made plans to pay a visit to Sinclair.

I dropped from the vent I used to leave Pauper's Drop, landing in the middle of the hallway of the Hamilton. I winced as my back gave a painful throb telling me to get this patched up & patched up quick. I stumbled my way to the stairs, ignoring the looks of the few people I passed, no doubt receiving the stares from the blood dripping down my back. "Hey!" A man called reaching out & touching my shoulder. I stopped only momentarily & stared back at the stranger who gave me a sympathetic smile. "Here, I'll patch that up for ya. Run-in with a crawler?"

He made a gesture to a nearby door with a room number, meaning it was an apartment. Made me wonder how someone like him could afford it, but I was not about to look a gift horse in the mouth.

I sat down on a stool he placed for me so that I wouldn't get blood on the sofa & waited for him to return from the bathroom with the necessary supplies he'd need. "So!" He called out from the bathroom. "How'd you have a run-in with those splicers?"

"Must've not liked my face," I answered sarcastically.

He emerged from the bathroom & pulled up another stood behind me. He set the first-aid kit on the floor & pulled out a bottle of disinfectant & a cotton swab. After he pulled up my shirt enough to get at the slash, I hissed when the soaked swab came in contact with the cut. "Got pretty tore up," He said.

"More than likely."

"You gotta name?"

"Do you?"

He barked out a laugh & said, "Touche. Name's Jackie. Jackie Rodkins. Your turn."

I didn't know what possessed me to answer, "Hawkeye."

But Jackie accepted it, but then asked, "Gotta first name with that, Hawkeye?"

"I'd rather not say."

Jackie shook his head side to side, but let it go. "Alright, now the painful part." He held up a needle & string. I gripped my knees as some form of release from the pain as he steadily weaved the needle in & out of my skin, sewing up the slash as best as he could. With one final knot & a quick snip, he dabbed the stitches again with a swab soaked with disinfectant before deeming it good enough. "There. Best job I've ever done, if I do say so myself."

"Thanks," I stood up to leave only to be stopped by Jackie.

"You're just going to go back out there?" He asked taking a few steps to put himself in between me & the door.

I nodded & said, "Yes."

"Even while you're injured?"

"Yep."

He threw up his hands & exclaimed, "Women!"

I made my departure. My back stung painfully as I walked, but I knew there'd be no climbing around for me for the next week or so. Meaning I needed safety & unfortunately the only person offering safety was the man I'd rather not deal with. But before long, I made my way to the Sinclair Deluxe to speak to Augustus Sinclair


	3. Rapture Demon

Sinclair's smile as I approached the desk was one that sent chills up my spin & not the good kind either. It was like he knew that I'd come to his desk eventually with the right push. If I find out that he was the one who sent that splicer after him: Getting ahead would be the least of his worries. But for now, I'd step up to the plate & see what he was fully offering.

He folded his hands neatly together & placed his elbows on the desk he was sitting at. "So, finally accepting my offer?" He questioned the smile never disappearing.

"I'll listen, but that doesn't mean I'm accepting. There's a few things I need to hear first."

"Of course." He made a gesture towards the open glass doors that lead to the hotel.

I walked through & waited for him to open the doors to the office. He held the door open like a gentleman & directed me to the back room where two chairs were already waiting. The cheeky bastard had already planned this out, like he knew that I'd come to see him in due time. The room was mostly used for storage from what I could see, but it was the most privacy we were going to get in a place like this.

"You've got blood on your shirt & a hole," He pointed out, his eyes never leaving the injury.

"Yeah. Had a run-in with a splicer. What of it?"

He clapped his hands & the hotel's front desk attendant quickly made her appearance. He handed her a few dollars & said, "Go purchase a new shirt for the young lady, if you would be so kind. And you can keep the change." She nodded & rushed to retrieve Sinclair's request. Once she was out of view, Sinclair took his seat & crossed his legs. "Now, let's talk business. What do I need to do to get your patronage, miss."

I mulled it over for a moment before I said, "Safety."

"Safety?"

"Yes. I don't want to have to go to sleep at night & worry I might not wake up in the morning or wake up someplace I don't recognize. Someplace I can call home. I want an apartment in the Artemis Suites." It was a simple request. Artemis Suites wasn't the most luxurious place in Rapture, mostly for the working class citizens of Rapture, but it wasn't falling apart at the seams. Sure, it had it's fair share of trouble, but locked doors & security cameras & turrets located at key points throughout the building. And it felt like the best place to call home for someone like me.

Sinclair blinked in shock for just a second. Then it cleared up back to the clean-cut businessman with questionable business ethics. "Why not something in Olympus Heights. Say the Mercury Suites?"

I knew his ploy. "Getting an apartment in Olympus Heights would just get me lynched if I ever showed my face in Pauper's Drop after I even signed the lease. And to be honest, it keeps what I'd lose if you don't like what I get to a minimum. I'm not unintelligent, Mr. Sinclair."

That made him look impressed. Sinclair nodded, "A fair point. And in return, I tell you who I need information on & you'd be able to retrieve it? Everything downright scandalous with proof?"

I nodded. "Not without a decent pay though. Getting any information from any high-end players isn't cheap. I'd need to afford to to blend in without fault."

"That I can do. Would I get to learn your name today?"

"No." I thought for a moment before looking Sinclair in the eye. "But there is one more thing..."

"And what would that be?"

"I will in no way collect information that could harm Grace Holloway or her husband James." Sinclair stood up. He held out his hand & I clasped my own his his giving it a firm shake. Deal concluded. Now just the paperwork.

We were interrupted by the woman who worked the front desk reappearing with a bag in her hand. Sinclair thanked her & took the bag from her. With a dismissing hand, she returned to the front desk to continue listening to the Rapture Radio that croaked from the rusty radio she owned. Sinclair handed me the bag & waited until I pulled out the article of clothing. I was thankful that it was just a simple navy blue shirt that could be tied in the back to allow for a more formed figure. "Thank you," I said replacing the shirt in the bag & setting it down on the floor by my feet.

Before long, I was in the new shirt, my old one disposed of & I was back in Pauper's Drop. A 'Trial-Run' as Sinclair had called it to see how well I could collect the information he was looking for before moving me up to bigger marks. Although, when he meant 'trial-run' I didn't think he would send me up against the Head of Security of Andrew Ryan's Private Forces. Sullivan was well known in the Drop.

He was a person with a big red & white bulls-eye painted on his back to the people of Pauper's Drop. If the man didn't have a big fucking army behind him, I'm pretty sure the people down here would have stuck a shiv in his belly a long time ago. And even if someone had the guts to stab him the back & make off like a bandit, his army would march through the Drop, killing anyone in sight just to be sure they got the killer.

The man was unpleasant, almost viper-like with a receding hairline & a pencil thin mustache to add to his look. He had thick wrinkles around his eyes, indicating his age, but also his wisdom & cunning. Now where his wisdom was being used was another question altogether. Personally, I couldn't stand the man, but I could respect him for his line of work & dealing with Ryan's ever growing paranoia.

Currently, Sullivan was working on cracking down a thief who had stolen something or another from some artist type in Fort Frolic & made his escape to Pauper's Drop. Not a smart move, if I'd say so myself since no one down here would buy anything from the rich people that towered above them. That'd just get them locked up. So it was no surprise that the thief would be easily cornered in Pauper's Drop.

I walked calmly, keeping a safe & inconspicuous distance from Sullivan, within earshot, but out of sight. He was walking with a few of his 'boys' making it seem that they were just going to get a bite from the Fishbowl diner. From a few more hours of following him, I finally collected enough to make Sinclair smile since it sure made me smile with knowing. Sullivan wasn't just a cop, he was a cop that played dirty, threatening the lives of the very people I grew up around to find out what he wanted; flashing his badge wherever he went like a kid with a loaded gun. He also dropped Andrew Ryan's name a lot more than one really should, but if Fontaine was starting to be considered the Boogeyman & a name to be feared, then Andrew Ryan was the bloody devil himself.

It was almost hilarious at how often Sullivan also questioned Andrew Ryan's orders. The people here had their own minds & Andrew's idea of a free market was great in theory, but with a man who built a city under the sea (a feat seen as impossible) with his name plastered on almost everything it seemed, it was without a doubt that a god-complex would form. Which from Sullivan's angry mutterings, it was already starting to rear its ugly head like a bull.

Sinclair almost grinned in delight when I dropped from the vent into his office space of his apartment in Olympus Heights. The mood in his apartment though was surprisingly welcoming, but a little overwhelming with the amount of expensive goods he had brought with from the surface, most of them items like an oak finish record player. Nothing that gave a clear notion of what the surface was like since Ryan was a daft paranoid bastard with power. A dangerous chemistry mix that would either balance itself out or nuke the place.

And I would make sure that by the time Sinclair & I were done, he would be the most well-informed man in Rapture & instead of have just a finger in everyone's pie, Sinclair would be eating a slice of each with a feline grin while his competition wallowed in starvation.

Within the few weeks that followed, I settled in nicely into my new apartment & my new line of work. Sinclair even brought it upon himself to purchase some affordable furniture for me, nothing too fancy, just enough for me to have a few luxuries.

A four post bed was placed in the bedroom along with a vanity similar to the one Grace possessed & a few things that a woman would have in her vanity. The blankets placed on my bed were different shades of purple along with the pillow covers. There was a dresser in front of the wall across from the door that, much to my surprise, were full of clothes both nice looking & working clothes. The closet held a few dresses which made me wonder why in Sinclair's right mind would he get these since I'd never wear them.

My kitchen had a few things such as a stove, a fridge & a new microwave. And for a few minutes I couldn't figure out how the coffee maker worked. It wasn't like I drank coffee to begin with, but I'm sure I'd be working long nights & coffee was about to become my best friend. There were even a few Meal-Time frozen dinners already in the freezer part of my fridge. Sinclair thought ahead. The floor was tiled black & white, the cupboards were white as was most of the appliances. A small table sat in the corner, maybe big enough to fit three people if they squeezed. It had a wooden surface, but I wasn't surprised to see that the legs were made from coral.

My sitting room held two couches with a small end table at each end along with a low table in the middle of both in front of the fireplace. A TV rested on the other wall, opposite of the fireplace. Not too far to the right of the TV sat a desk with a few sheets of stationary & a tin of pens already sat waiting. A small, but comfortable chair slid under the desk with relative ease.

I almost fainted when I stepped into the shower for the first time, the hot warm pouring over my body washing off all the stress & grime from Pauper's Drop. It was very rare that I actually got a decent shower aside from using a sink in a public bathroom & stolen perfume. When I felt the need, I'd ask Grace to use her shower, but that wasn't often; I didn't want to feel like I was taking advantage of her hospitality for a duct-rat like me. So having my own shower now was absolutely heaven.

All in all, a perfect place for someone like me. I was even thankful to the man, who had kept his end of the bargain while I kept up mine. Sinclair just smiled & said, "I take care of my 'assets'." It was a subtle agreement between us that I was not to be referred as his 'employee', but an asset. An asset still had the freedom to go about as they please, while an employee is chained to their employer. Sinclair was again amused by my caution to our business deal. I didn't live 8 years in the Drop just to drop everything I've ever built up now.

If my no-good mother of mine could see me now, maybe she wouldn't have abandoned me.

And the year came to an end. Hello, 1954


	4. Rapture Mole

Dymond: Review! Reviews make this come out faster since reviews make Dymond smile like she just won the lottery.

Just getting my word out there. Love ya, peace!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~(Rapture!)

"It appears that your injury has fully healed," Dr. Steinman muttered absentmindedly, his fingers lightly prodding the thin scar across my back. I glanced back when I heard him take off his latex gloves, disposing them in a nearby waste bin.

As I sat up, a nurse came over & handed over my shirt with a small smile. I still didn't understand why Sinclair made me come here, the man was no doctor to diagnose stitches in someone's back, but he was adamant that I had the wound checked out incase of any 'serious concerns'. Like this was my first time getting stitches, but if it shut the man up, I obliged as long as he was picking up the bill.

As I slipped it on, I heard Dr. Steinman ask, "Have the bridge of your nose always been that... wide?" The question threw me off for a moment. My nose? My nose was fine as far as I could tell. It was normal in fact, so I had no idea what he was talking about, but knew what he was implying. I've seen women flock to him like he was their mother goose, wanting him to cut their faces with that scalpel of his & make them pretty. And it's escalated since the creation of ADAM occurred leaving nothing out of range of the cosmetic surgeon.

"Y-Yeah?" I was cautious, even more-so than I was when Sinclair gave me the business deal not 3 weeks ago. I never trusted doctors, much less doctors that held a scalpel more intimately than a lover like Dr. Steinman did. Even now he had a scalpel in his hand, his finger tracing the smooth metal of the blade which made me itch in a slight panic of what he was going to do with that blade.

Dr. Steinman shook his head like he had just seen the worst painting someone had ever done. "With my help, your nose could be perfect. With ADAM, what excuse do we not have to look our best, to look beautiful." He whipped out his business card & held it out to me.

I took it & stuffed it in the back pocket of my trousers. "I'll consider it," I lied, just wanting to be out of that room.

Dr. Steinman smiled his perfect teeth & gestured towards the door. "The attendant will write up the bill." I nodded once & quickly left his unsettling company. The nurse gave me another smile & bid me a good rest of my day.

Rest of my day? I don't think I'll be able to sleep tonight. I'll have to make sure to voice to Sinclair that visits to Dr. Steinman were not going to happen again for a very long time.

I stepped up to the front desk & the attendant gave me a faked smile. "So, just a check-up today?" She questioned an ink-well & pen in her hand with a piece of paper under her hand.

"Correct."

She scratched down the necessary information, then moved over to the draws of her desk, pulling out a record book to write down my appointment today. She handed me the paper & said, "Have a wonderful day." I could tell she was thinking I was nothing but a dirty duct-rat from the way my clothes looked, far from a proper lady who was depending off another man's money to get by. The day I became something of a proper lady was the day that Ryan handed the keys to Rapture over to Fontaine.

I took the paper & folded it until it was able to fit in my pocket without crushing the paper. I gave a half-assed wave & left the section of the clinic. The foyer of the downstairs area was already starting to fill up with nurses & people wanting to see Dr. Steinman for whatever face-life they needed which meant it was time for me to get out of there before someone accused me of stealing something. A few people I recognized from the Pearl which didn't surprise me none. The only thing that surprised me was the fact that they could afford the surgery.

"Hawkeye!" I jumped when I heard the nickname only Sinclair called me. I turned around & spotted the mentioned man walking confidently up to me, placing his hand on my shoulder in a friendly gesture. "How did the appointment go?"

"He says it healed fully & should be fine." It was short & easy to remember so Sinclair wouldn't get the idea that I needed another check-up.

Sinclair beamed & exclaimed, "Well isn't that dandy! We're back in business."

Not that we ever fell out of business. I did my work despite the fact my back burned when the day was done with, but it mattered none to me. Sinclair would have his moneys worth of information for upcoming business deals or whatever he does & I had my next paycheck by the end of the week. I would then get one of McDonagh's famous burgers at the end of each day. It still tasted like fish, but it was better than the other restaurants around Neptune's Bounty & Pauper's Drop. And I refused to eat anywhere that was high end, knowing fully well that I would never blend in.

McDonagh was nice enough, I suppose. Treat him with respect & he'd respect you back; cause trouble & he'd throw you out on your ass. He didn't sneer at me like anyone else would, so that was a bonus in my book. And he made a mean burger.

And then I remembered that I was still in the company of Sinclair who was talking about a successful business deal or whatnot with a name I had given him: Elliot Nelson. I dug in my pocket & pulled out the piece of paper with the bill written on it & handed it to Sinclair since he had said he was going to cover it; it was one of the ways he had even gotten me there.

After he paid the lady at the front of the Medical Pavilion, we boarded a bathysphere chose Neptune's Bounty as the destination. The ride was mostly silent, except for the occasional tapping when Sinclair's fingers would drum against his leg. "I have a new job for you," He said out of the blue. "And you must swear to not mention one word about this."

I looked over curiously as to the nature of this job. "Ol' Andy Ryan has been breathing down my neck to take care of Sofia Lamb & wants evidence enough to arrest her. I need you to find someone to infiltrate her little religion & get me the evidence Andy needs."

The job was a strange one all right. I knew my area of expertise was information but recruitment? For a job to take down Lamb? Dr. Sofia Lamb M.D was a clinical psychiatrist hired by Andrew Ryan himself to quell the numbers in Pauper's Drop. Why would he want to take her down if he hired her? She had come down here & started to spread her altruistic ideals hoping to enlighten the citizens through ethical psychiatry & to create a true utopia. She offered free therapy sessions for the poor citizens in Pauper's Drop, lost poker games intentionally to spread wealth to those who needed it & created the artistic commune at her personal property in Dionysus Park. Lamb's altruism ideals did clash greatly with Andrew Ryan's, but to hire a mole to take her down? That just seemed diabolical. Maybe he was just a sore loser from the political debates he had lost to Sofia Lamb.

"So you want me to recruit someone? How?"

"Follow your instinct. You live by your instinct. Who do you think would best fit in with Lamb's little group?"

I had a list of names to pick through. "I'll get back to you on that."

The Fighting McDonagh's Tavern was loud as always from the fishermen coming in to enjoy a pint from the grumpy bartender Thomas. Thomas mostly was a spare when Bill himself couldn't man the bar. Thomas typically hated the noise, but would keep his mouth shut through it & serve drinks accordingly. The cook in the back, Mariska Lutz, came out from the kitchen & placed down my normal order of a Fighting McBurger.

I wrote down possible names of people that would be the perfect personage for this job all the while thinking of what Sofia Lamb had done to get under Ryan's skin so much that he would resort to trickery to get her arrested. "Big Kate? Nah, she's too much of a wrench jockey to gain any semblance to Sofia. And she'd just punch me for requesting she work with Sinclair." I scratched the name off. "Davis Pittman... Security guard at Ryan Amusements... too old." I scratched his name off. "Elliot Nelson's still working on the needles to even agree to this." The dots finally connected in my brain as I wrote down the name 'Stanley Poole'.

Stanley Poole was a weasel of man, if I could call him a man, who would sell his mother if it meant getting a good story & was always as Mr. Ryan's beck & call for what stories to write. He worked for the newspaper company the Rapture Tribune as a reporter & writer. I knew Sinclair was already paying Poole not to say anything about his business assets which was the perfect setup. I trashed the other pieces of paper & kept the one with the information that I knew of about Stanley Poole, including the detailed explanation about how he'd be perfect for the job.

Sinclair ordered & he shall receive, it seems.

I hit the vents, crawling my way towards Sinclair's main office at his apartment in Olympus Heights. I removed the grate overlooking his desk & dropped down on the coral desktop, startling the businessman so much he nearly flipped backwards in his chair. "Hawkeye! Door must be broken," He mused in a joking matter.

"Stanley Poole," I said, hopping off his desk.

"Stan Poole? What about him?"

I set the paper I wrote on over his manifest book. "Lamb's soon-to-be Judas."

Sinclair gave me a look before unfolding it & reading everything over, his chin gripped between his fingers. "I see your point. I'll get Stanley Poole in here."

Poole was inside Sinclair's office before I realized it. Sinclair had me stay around for the initial meeting just so that we may acquaint ourselves, knowing that Sinclair was going to use me as the go-between when Stanley would give his report, should he agree to this.

Poole fidgeted in his seat while Sinclair stared him down with a small smile on his face. "I have a job for you, Stanley," Sinclair started out. "It'll change the course of history. Our dear friend Andy's making a move against Sofia Lamb & we want you to build up a case against her."

Most of the discussion I ignored, mostly since it was about what Stanley was going to get out of it.

I leaned against the glass window overlooking the sea & crossed my arms, watching the numerous schools of fish dart past like the city didn't even exist, like it was just another coral reef. I even noticed a few sharks swim by, completely ignoring the people that passed through the glass tunnels. Despite how much of a lunatic Ryan was, he sure knew how to build purgatory with an excellent view.

"And this will be your contact outside of Sinclair Solutions & Ryan Industries," Sinclair said gesturing over to me. I gave Stanley a side glance then returned to my fish-gazing. "She goes by the name Hawkeye. She will be the one you report to when you infiltrate Lamb's little collective farm. And she will be the one checking up on you randomly. Hawkeye will always be watching." He made me seem like the damn Boogyman. "And you know the drill: no one is to know about her."

Stanley nervously nodded, understanding my role in this whole situation. Sinclair spun around in his chair to look me in the eye. "I'm guessing you already know who our boy here can cozy up to to get in, right?"

"Simon Wales. He's got a sort of church in Siren Alley. He's sort of Lamb's lieutenant. Snuggle up to him with a story of how the Tribune is stopping you writing about what's-what & you're a sure in."

Stanley stood up & asked, "And I'm supposed to trust the word of a duct-rat?"

"You're trusting the word of one of your bosses. Now go. You got a job to do." Stanley scurried out of the room to do what he was told when he heard the angry tone of Sinclair's voice. It surprised me that Sinclair jumped to defend me so quickly, having never experienced that before. "Doesn't that bother you when people call you 'Duct-rat'?" He questioned giving me an look over to try & read my emotions.

I shrugged. "I doesn't bother me really. After awhile, you get used to it & soon it because white noise."

"How often do you hear it?"

"Every time I walk down the walkways. Why do you think I travel by the air ducts almost all the time?" Sinclair nodded, understanding why I never came out of the air ducts much.

I jumped up on his desk & gave a leap up, grabbing the edge of the vent & hauling myself up & out of Sinclair's view. I replaced the grate & continued on back to my apartment complex for much needed sleep


	5. Rapture Confusion

Dymond: Just realized one of my followers is CaliforniaStop. I nearly flipped shit since I love her story The Scars of Utopia. Read CaliforniaStop's The Scars of Utopia, would you kindly? You will not be disappointed, boyo!

And I'm happy to say that in the near future me & her will be working collaboratively between our stories: her Camille & Fontaine with my Jamie & Sinclair.

And I'm starting to nudge a little in my SinclairxOC outcome. Starting, but it won't go very far any time soon hopefully if I can keep my mind on track.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~(Rapture!)

Stanley definitely looked like he was ready to leap out of his skin; for someone like him to wander around Pauper's Drop was something of idiocy, but I got a bit of amusement out of it. My grounds, my rules as it were.

It had been exactly a month since the deal with Stanley Poole regarding Sofia Lamb. He had a little trouble at first -getting the nerve to meet with Simon Wales- but progress was coming as he reassured me. He disliked my presence greatly & once told Sinclair that I reminded him of a hawk circling a field mouse. Sinclair got a laugh out of it since it referenced to the nickname he bestowed upon me. He occasionally asked if I was going to tell him my real name, but that question was always met with a snarky remark.

And as much as he would try to hide it from me, I already knew how his progress with Lamb was going, & so far he had just gotten his foot in the door being invited to Dionysus Park for Lamb's 'artist retreat'. Even had the blue morpho butterfly brooch to prove it. Pauper's Drop was practically buzzing with talk of it since it was free to the public. I had to give it to Lamb: She knew how to lure people in to her little collective farm.

I decided that Stanley had fidgeted enough & dropped down from the King Pawn sign. "Poole," I greeted simply, making the skittish man spin around to face me.

"Ah... Hawkeye... You, uh, know how to make an entrance," He laughed nervously, scratching the back of his neck like a nervous tick. He was blinking quickly, showing that his anxiety was hitting its peak. And the beads of sweat on his forehead were the tell tale sign. Rapture was typical cold & the only sweaty people around here were the ones just getting back from Hephaestus. Stanley was someone who who probably hadn't had an honest hard days work in his life; if there was an honest bone in his little body.

"I'm, uh, I'm in. Yep, yours truly is a member of the Rapture Family."

"I know. And I know about the art show. Tell me something I don't know."

"O-Okay. Lamb is even sponsoring me to ink it while I'm here. Little does she know I'm going to be writing about her." He gave a small laugh like he just told a joke. When he saw I wasn't laughing he coughed. "No sense of humor, okay."

"My sense of humor is fine."

"Okay, um..."

"You better get working fast. Ryan's breathing down Sinclair's neck. He breathes down my neck. I breathe down yours. Understand?"

"Yeah! Yeah! I got it!" Stanley made his retreat, nearly running into a welder from Hephaestus. The welder just missed when he swung his wrench at Stanley's head to kill him. When he went to swing again, he stopped short, seeing the blue morpho butterfly brooch pinned to Stanley's overall strap. Seems that badge has become something of a safety net for him.

The welder gave me a small nod as he passed as he walked into the King Pawn for whatever reason.

When I had returned home to my cozy little apartment once evening, listening to the sounds of the working class mill about gossiping or arguing amongst themselves, I had discovered a bottle of 1919 White Chardonnay sitting in front of my door. I was also surprised that it wasn't stolen, but then again the scary looking delivery man still standing in the foyer might have been a guess as to why it wasn't missing.

I had never tasted wine before, having been too young to have it when I came to Rapture, not even for a church commune. My mother wasn't a believer so I never had a chance to taste the sacramental wine that the local bishop would have people drink when they received their blessings. 'The blood of the Christ' I think they would say, which to me sounded a bit morbid. Who would want to drink someone's blood? Vampires & cannibals drink blood, but to drink 'blood' during church? That just sounded like sacrilege. There was a lot of the Christian religion that I just didn't understand, but I really couldn't say anything about the matter since I never went to a church service.

And I wasn't going to start attending the religious ramblings just to sate a curiosity _or stupidity_. Stupidity killed the cat, curiosity was framed. And god forbid if Sinclair ever thought I was 'curious', I'd never hear the end of it. I'm almost never curious; all I want is information. Curiosity has little to do with my decisions. I get my information, give it to Sinclair so he can feel all warm & fuzzy inside & go home to sleep until early the next morning.

I picked up the bottle by the neck & unlocked the door to my apartment, being sure to lock it behind me.

I was also surprised so find that Sinclair had taken the liberty to add wine glasses to my cabinets that I hadn't noticed before, not that I was looking very hard. So taking a seat in my sitting room with a fresh glass of wine in my hand, I took a experimental sip of the wine. It was bitter, but sweet at the same time, almost reminded me of grapefruit. I finished off the glass & deposited the glass in the sink to be washed a little later.

After a quick bath, I emerged from the bathroom dressed in a pair of brown trousers & the navy blue shirt Sinclair had bought me the first day of our collaboration. I draped my towel over my hair & started to make my way to the kitchen.

I heard a small ding from the pneumo positioned by the door, meaning I had received some mail, more than likely from Sinclair since picking up the phone seemed to be too much work for him. And Stanley was downright terrified of me to even consider sending me a letter. I opened the small hatch door & found my letter sitting in the slot. Sure enough it was an envelope from Sinclair, but when I opened it, I nearly dropped the papers like they were on fire. It was a notice for reservations at the Kashmir where one of Cohen's performances was going to be showing. Written for Mr. Sinclair & Ms. Hawkeye. Cute.

I knew how much the reservations cost, but for Sinclair to book it & inform me... surely he was mad. What did he hope to gain by sending me these? I shook my head & threw the papers on the coffee table & went to make myself some dinner.

I looked up from my meal preparations sharply when I heard a few knocks on my door. For someone to come around at this time was suspicious since I had no acquaintances other than Grace, but she was performing tonight at the Limbo right now. Opening a nearby drawer, I pulled out a long carving knife for some protection should it be a Splicer deciding to use what little smarts they had to lure me out.

A quick peek through the peephole & I sighed in both relief & annoyance. I opened the door & grabbed Sinclair's shirt, pulling him inside quick. I slammed the door behind us & growled, "Are you out of your mind?"

Sinclair gave an innocent smile & glanced around, completely ignoring the knife in my hand. "I see you settled in nicely," He commented taking a seat on the loveseat. "Did you try some of the wine I sent you? I hope it was to your likin'."

I ignored his invasive questions. "Sure, make yourself at home. Eat some hard candy while you're at it. I hope you choke..." I grumbled. I made my way back into my kitchen to dispose of the knife seeing as how I had no use of it. I could kill Sinclair with my bare hands if the need ever arose. Or kill him with that stick he uses to smoke his cigarettes that he's so fond of.

"I see you've found my invitation." He seemed smug as he picked up the discarded paper on my coffee table.

"Yes, I did. Is this some sort of joke?" I growled, throwing the knife inside its respective drawer. I walked back to Sinclair & stood so that the coffee table was in between us. "I mean really! The Kashmir? 'Ms. Hawkeye'!"

"Well you won't tell me your real name so I didn't know what else to write-"

"That's beside the point. The Kashmir?! You must be nuts."

"Or maybe I wanted to take my best asset out for some dinner. Treat her like a real woman & not a duct-rat."

I stopped my rantings. "What are you trying to gain?" I asked carefully.

For someone like Sinclair, nothing is done without some sort of profit involved. People down here always said that Sinclair had a heart of stone which I was inclined to agree. The only thing that made this man smile was the sound of money in his pocket & the information I'd give him which was technically even more money in his pocket.

Sinclair inhaled a hit of nicotine from his Oxford Club & answered, "To know a little more about my asset other than what she does for me & what her nickname is."

"You're willing to be seen with a duct-rat in a high end restaurant just to know my name."

"Is it that hard to believe? I truly want to know who you really are, Hawkeye, & if it takes a dinner at the Kashmir, well then I'll play ball. Don't make me start beggin' now."

I sighed & placed my hand against my forehead. Sinclair was growing to be more of a headache as the weeks went on. And Sinclair seemed to enjoy his role as my glorified headache. It wasn't that I disliked Sinclair, but I didn't like him either. I tolerated him, more or less, like one tolerates a rash on one's bum.

But I suppose dinner at the Kashmir wouldn't hurt since it would save me from having to cook my own meal. And on the plus, it would give me a potential list of targets to scope out for information that would make Sinclair smile like the Cheshire Cat from Lewis Carrol's popular story Alice's Adventures in Wonderland

"Fine."

"I knew you liked me."

"I don't. I tolerate your grating-on-my-nerves presence."

"So you do like me."

I groaned & left him where he sat to disappear into my room to find something suitable to wear.

I hadn't exactly looked over everything that Sinclair had taken the liberty of purchasing when I arrived & frankly I would have been surprised if the articles of clothing actually fit instead of me drowning in a shirt clearly a few sizes too large tucked into a pair of brown trousers I had stolen from a working stiff's locker who had changed into cleaner clothes for a date he was going on with his wife. The shoes I had found fit nicely since my old pair had taken a toll for the worst after the run in with the Crawler.

I pulled open the armoire doors & nearly stumbled back when I laid eyes on a few knee-length cocktail dresses that hung on separate hangers, each dry-cleaned, pressed & ready to be worn. I pulled out the crimson colored v-neck cocktail dress & laid it out on the bed for closer examination. It was solid crimson it seemed with the material made out of a mixture of silk & chiffon. Simple beading decorated the bodice & a wide collar so that the material would rest comfortably off to the side of my shoulders.

I shook my head & pulled off the clothing I was currently wearing. Slipping the dress over my head, I smoothed it out once it settled near perfect along my thin figure. I didn't have the ample bosom as most of the women did, but I had enough for it to be noticeable & to stay out of the 'flat-chested' zone. I retied my braid just so it draped over my left shoulder for some sense of style. With the final touch of a little makeup Sinclair once again took upon himself to buy & leave in my vanity plus a small ruby hairpin holding a bit of my bangs back from my blue eyes.

My mother once told me, back when she cared, that I had gained my eyes from my father who I had never met. He had left shortly after I was born to fight in the first World War, but my mother talked of nothing but distaste for his decision to join the war effort & offer his life for our country. It was a patriotic act, so when my mother spoke ill of him I would ignore her, having a form of respect for the deceased soldier.

With a final sigh of defeat, I joined Sinclair once more out in the sitting room. "Well, well," He mused standing up & setting his glass of wine on the coffee table. It seems he had helped himself to a glass while he was waiting for me to finish up. "Don't you clean up nice. You actually look like a woman."

"Don't overstep my good fortune, Sinclair. Just be happy I agreed."

"Happy & content."

He gave me a small bow like any gentleman would & offered me his arm once he was upright again. I rolled my eyes & setting my hand in the crook his elbow, allowing him to take the lead out the door of my apartment. I locked the door behind us & was lead to the Atlantic Express station


	6. Rapture Dances

Dymond: You know the drill: fav, review, make Dymond smile! Make Dymond smile & more chapters come out. Time to see a little bit of Jamie's woman side instead of the duct-rat we all know & love.

Plans are being made for including Miss Camille Adler as we speak for the next chapter after this. Look forward to it, my pets!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~(Rapture!)

The Kashmir Restaurant screamed high class & elegance from the fountain styled neon & porcelain sign that hung over the doorway to the people that entered her doors. Everything inside the restaurant was elegant & grand, more than likely expensive. The lobby itself was a little small compared to the rest of the restaurant, but was decorated accordingly to please the eyes & give the illusion of class. Sitting on each side of the Help & Reservations desk were two corridors: to the left was a corridor that no doubt led to the kitchen & the storage rooms while the corridor on the right led to the supervisor's office.

Each table was made of fine oak imported from the surface during the initial building of Rapture, the chairs matching the tables with a small cushion on each for the comfort of the guests. And reminded me just how out of place I was when it came to glamor of the rich & famous. A duct-rat like myself milling about the rich & posh was something I wouldn't even dream of, much less actually do it.

But Sinclair looked happy as a clam.

Sinclair guided us to the host who directed us to a table once he confirmed Sinclair's reservations. The dining foyer of the restaurant was definitely the main room of the restaurant. It consisted of a vast open center floor with a dessert table resting in the middle of it for the guests to help themselves or to order the wait staff to retrieve; two dining areas rested on each side of the room with two levels with balconies, a front second floor balcony. Large chandeliers hung in with equal spaces between each as they lined the ceiling. A stage in the back of the foyer where one of Sander Cohen's disciples was playing the grand piano with about a dozen couples dancing to it. If I remembered correctly, the disciple's name was Kyle Fitzpatrick.

Mr. Fitzpatrick was about as old as I was, give or take a few years & had been under Sander Cohen's tutelage for a few years now. He used to be a resident of the Drop when he came here, but when his talent for playing the piano was discovered by Cohen he was quick to be snatched up & never again seen wandering the Drop looking for food (a few times I had been kind enough to leave a crust of bread in his path). It was a little heartening to see someone from the Drop become somewhat of a success in the world of fortune.

We were seated at a table & the host waltzed off, nudging one of the many wait staff to get them to serve us. A young woman walked over & gave us a forced friendly smile. "What would you like to drink tonight? We have a wide variety of alcoholic beverages, soda pop, & a large collection of fine wine," She rambled off holding up a small pad & a pen.

Sinclair gave her a charming smile & said, "I'll have a gin & tonic, if you would please, my dear." He looked over to me waiting for my answer.

It wasn't like I knew every drink combination out there, much less what wine would go well with the meal. I gave Sinclair a sharp look that screamed 'help' & he answered for me, "Make that two." The waitress nodded & jotted our orders down before handing us our menus. With the click of her heels, she left us to our menu gazing.

I was floored at how expensive the food prices were & was even more surprised when I saw that they had genuine beef from the surface. Normally for beef to be imported it cost an arm & a leg to do it, but I guess the Kashmir had that arm & leg to give up. Or they bought it from Fontaine & his band of smugglers. Either way...

I glanced over at Sinclair who closed up his menu & laid it down on the table. He already had his order & I was still trying to figure out what this french/italian/something word was. There wasn't even a plain old burger on the menu! He must have noticed my confused look & asked, "Do you want me to order for you?" I looked away in my slight embarrassment & nodded curtly. "It's safe to assume you've never been to a high-end restaurant."

Either he was daft or teasing me. I glanced around at other couples or dinner parties that were seated at the other tables & all of them had one thing in common: They were making supposedly inconspicuous glances at me. Figured, none of them knew who I was & the women were nothing but a bunch of gossiping busybodies who didn't know how to keep their nose out of someone's business. Right about now, Sinclair & I were the talk of the busybodies.

The waitress finally returned after 20 minutes of waiting with our drinks & Sinclair placed our orders: A roast turkey with dressing & potato slices for him & a chicken fricassee served with rice for me. The waitress left once again. I took a hesitant sip of the gin & tonic finding the taste somewhat unpleasant since I never really drank before in my life. Too poor to afford it & my mother would never give me some since she kept it for herself to drink herself unconscious.

Sinclair entwined his fingers together & set his elbows on the table, resting his chin on his hands. "So, what do you think?"

"Think of what?"

"Think you'll tell me your name now?"

I shook my head at his persistence & gazed around the room once again. I was a little surprised to see the Andrew Ryan sitting at a table with another woman that I recognized as Diane McClintock gushing over something or another. Ryan looked about as interested in what she had to say as a cat did an annoying child poking its side. He almost looked in pain like listening to Diane talk was the most torturous thing ever. I didn't know whether to feel bad for Diane or feel bad for Ryan.

Our food arrived in a timely manner & we ate our meals in relative silence aside from the occasional questions from Sinclair about the food or the waitress refilling Sinclair's gin & tonic since I barely drank any of mine. Sinclair touched my hand & gestured his head toward a skinny woman with black hair pinned back by a hair clip with dangly hoop earrings hanging from her earlobes. She was dressed in her finest & walked toward young Kyle Fitzpatrick with her nose upturned. "That's Anna Culpepper. Her & Sandy Cohen have a sort of rivalry in Fort Frolic. She's _very _popular with ol' Andy." There was a very sarcastic tone to his voice. "She could be someone you could look into for me. Ryan would appreciate it."

"Another body to float in the ocean," I commented knowing what Sinclair was implying. "More than likely it's Cohen voicing his extreme hatred of her to Ryan & Ryan just wants Cohen to shut up. And with the things she's been singing, it's no surprise Ryan agrees."

I watched Kyle look up at her almost fearful like he was staring Death in the face. I couldn't hear what they were saying over the conversations of the people around us, but from I could gather from Kyle's reaction & Anna's angered features she must have been bitching about why some of her music wasn't being played. Kyle was more than likely trying & failing horribly to defend himself from the wrath of the woman. As I say: Never trust anything that bleeds for a week & doesn't die. Poor guy.

Anna let out a frustrated scream & stomped off. Kyle let out an inhaled breath & solemnly continued playing a little more rigid than the smooth flowing music that he was playing before.

The waitress returned & cleared away our empty plates & handed us the dessert menu. I pushed the menu away; I learned my lesson from the first menu fiasco. Sinclair smiled at my resistance of menus now & placed his own down on top once he had decided what to order. "So you've been working with me for nearly a year. Any chance I can finally know your name out of the kindness of your little heart?"

I once again ignored him. If he decided a good dessert, maybe I'd give him the benefit of knowing my name. It was a game that was becoming boring, but I wasn't just going to just give it to him. Make him work for it; a new game to play. "What about you tell me about your family? I know virtually nothing about you."

I bit the inside of my cheek before deciding to be nice for once. "I was born in 1935, February 15th. Father died shortly after I was born. Came down here with my mother."

"When did you come to Rapture?" He questioned, looking genuinely interested about me & my life.

"1948."

Sinclair clicked his tongue & finally asked the dreaded question, "Why did you become a duct-rat? I thought you'd have lodgings from your mother."

"We did when we first came," I started. Sinclair deserved to know with how well he'd been treating me; a nice change from the cold stares & snide remarks. "A nice little place in the Artemis Suites. My mother worked in Hephaestus, but was proper drunk. After getting caught drinking on job she was fired. She spent most of her time in the pubs & eventually was almost never home. Found she started to whore herself out at the Pearl. Our renter kicked us out & I never saw from her again leaving me to wander Pauper's Drop for something to eat at the age of 13. I adapted, learned the air duct systems & survived. That's my sob story."

Sinclair nodded respectfully & leaned back in his seat. "What about you? Information for information?" I questioned taking another sip of the gin & tonic. I was getting used to the taste now & could tolerate it just a little more than the first sip.

"Me? I was raised in sunny Panama. Granddaddy helped build the big ditch until he drowned in it. Then I moved to Georgia to strike it rich. Rapture all the same. I also used to raise prize winnin' spaniels. Smartest hounds I ever worked with. Great huntin' dogs too. I'd embarrass myself if I told you how old I am."

I smiled & said, "40." He looked surprised but the realization washed over him that I knew a bit more than I let on. Sinclair's life wasn't exactly that under the wraps. "And you're spending time with a 20-year-old. That doesn't look strange at all."

He just grinned & let out a belly laugh. "With age comes wisdom & experience."

The conversation was cut short when the waitress returned & Sinclair gave her the order of angel cake with strawberry sauce drizzled over the top.

When it was delivered to our table it took one bite to make me see heaven. It was the most delicious thing I had ever tasted in my life & it wasn't much of a life.

Once dessert was finished we reclined slightly in our chairs, stuffed & ready for a good night's sleep. I noticed Sinclair's gaze on me & finally I asked, "What is it?"

"Let's dance."

He stood up & grabbed my wrist, pulling me with him to the ballroom floor. Kyle was playing a piece by Bach that was more on the slower side. I gave Sinclair a slightly nervous look, having never danced before in my life; not even to Grace's songs. I always arrived after closing so there was no dancing involved. The less contact with people I had, the happier I was, so Sinclair & Grace were the only ones I had any real contact with.

"It's easy," He reassured, resting his hand on my waist & taking my left hand in his right hand. He guided me through the steps & I caught on quickly & finally Sinclair could enjoy the dance without having to worry about me impaling his foot with my heels. "So, did you have a good time tonight?" He questioned into my ear.

I honestly nodded. It was the most uncomfortable thing I had ever done, but I was glad I accepted. "Jamie Donovan."

"Pardon?"

I swallowed the saliva that built up in my mouth. "My name is Jamie Donovan."

"Pleased to know your name, Miss Donovan."

The night ended after a few more songs & Sinclair paid the bill for the meal.

He walked me home. It felt a little strange to just walk home since I normally used the air ducts to get to my destinations, but it was nice. Frightening, but nice. It was just something I wasn't used to with my life. When we reached my door, I released Sinclair's arm. "Thank you."

"No, thank _you_, Miss Jamie Donovan."

"Don't make me regret telling you my name, Sinclair."

"Wouldn't dream of it, Miss Donovan."

I bade him a good night & walked into my apartment. I checked the pneumo for any messages I might have received & was pleasantly surprised to see one from Grace inviting me to the Limbo tomorrow for a special Jazz Night they were performing. She mentioned in her letter that she was a little worried that I didn't stop in as often as I used to at night & she just wanted to know if I was alright & settling in well.

I kicked my heels off once I was safe inside my bedroom & stripped my dress off, tossing it over the vanity chair. I changed into a nightgown & crawled into bed, enjoying the soft covers that enveloped me. I knew better than to wonder when the next one was, but this would be the best memory that I would cherish. Sure, the human body had 7 billion nerves & Sinclair always managed to get on every single one of them, but he at least knew how to show a woman a good time. And for those few short hours, I felt more like a woman than a duct-rat


	7. Rapture Anew

Dymond: And See All Evil has a cover art. I know it's Lara Croft's face with some meager photoshop skills of mine to change her eye color to match Jamie's but that's pretty much who I picture when I'm writing about Jamie. And the dirt & grime on her face really bring out what kind of person Jamie is since she crawls through the air ducts which more than likely isn't the cleanest things in the world & Rapture is HUGE so she'd break out in a sweat. My point. Anyone who bitches can kiss my white shiny ass.

Anywho, if all goes according to plan, we may get the first look at one Camille Adler who, with permission from CaliforniaStop, will be making an appearance in See All Evil lest you, my faithful readers, have forgotten.

And I almost lit my hand on fire when I was getting my wood stove lit since I was getting pissed off because my piece of cardboard wasn't staying lit & used lighter fluid. Well, some of it got on my hand & within a second the lighter fluid lit up & I had a split second to pat out the fire before it seriously damaged my hand. It's fine, just stings a little & I can still work.

I'm smooth, I know...

Without further adieu, See All Evil!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~(Rapture!)

Johnny Topside: that was what they were calling the new man who showed up in a diving bell. He was a deep sea diver investigating the disappearances of several dozen people who just upped & disappeared from the face of the earth (Read: The Vanishing). Meaning he was lucky enough to dive down right above Rapture & was found nearly out of air out in the deep blue sea by a few workers in the fisheries. Even _I_ didn't know his real name since whenever he would try to correct someone on the nickname they would blow him off & continue with the Johnny Topside nonsense. He had already become something of a celebrity around Rapture, but Ryan was convinced he was a spook from the surface come to ransack his city & beat it into submission; definitely _not_ what Ryan was doing in the first place...

Johnny Topside didn't last two weeks before Sinclair had me scoping him out to see if he was indeed some kind of CIA or KGB operative. No doubt Ryan giving him the stink eye about it. But like a good little info collector, I did as asked.

He was an average guy that was in the wrong place at the right time it seemed, having arrived in Rapture in a diving bell a feat nearly impossible since the diving bells weren't built for this level of pressure. He didn't really enjoy all the attention he was getting, but enjoyed the luxuries that came with it: the free shows as Fort Frolic, the meals at the Kashmir, the attention of a few single women. The guy was alright in my book, just a man of unfortunate chance to arrive here in Rapture the way he did & with Ryan's growing time bomb of paranoia.

And Stanley Poole was all over this man like a fruit fly wanting to get the story about the man. Johnny, flustered by the personal questions that Stanley would ask, tried his hardest to avoid the squirrel of a man, but was failing horribly. I never felt the need to intervene on something Stanley was doing, but having been dealing with him for a few months now, I let my own pity take over. I blamed Sinclair for this softness I had grown which I thought was only about the size of a penny & only had room for Grace.

I reached out & grabbed Stanley by the back of his shirt. I jerked him back from the newcomer & growled, "Don't you have a job to be doing?"

"Y-Yeah, right, on it!" He scurried away before he could aggravate me any more than he already had.

I gave Johnny Topside a nod & went to leave, but he touched my shoulder to stop me. "Wait. Who are you? Everyone else seems keen on telling me their life story," He joked flashing me a quick smile.

"The closest thing to sanity that's here in Rapture. A little word of advice: Don't let your guard down for a second or they'll eat you alive." Johnny nodded & stuffed his hands in his pocket.

"What about you? How do you get by?"

His curiosity sort of reminded me of Sinclair; only difference is that Sinclair got information for his own personal gain while Johnny seemed genuinely curious about it. But that didn't mean he was getting much out of me. "Giving up a few dozen morals & pure fucking luck," I answered before leaving him to his own devices.

Sinclair had smirked when I approached him. He was waiting patiently for me at a small diner called Mo's Diner to avoid some unnecessary attention since the rumors that had spread from our night at the Kashmir caused quite a stir not just in the Rapture community, but for my own mental state: I did not take too kindly to being called 'Sinclair's New Whore', but he only laughed when I had thrown a newspaper in his face in retaliation. "Never thought you'd save him from Stanley," Sinclair pointed out, the smile never leaving. "Much less save anyone." He tapped his cigarette on the ashtray sitting at his table.

"I wouldn't wish Stanley on the worst of my enemies."

He took the minor insult with as much false hurt as he asked, "And what does that make me?"

"Diabolical."

He let a chuckle escape. "That's putting it mildly. Getting soft on me there, Hawkeye."

"Getting soft? I don't think so."

He shook his head & leaned in. "So, any dirt on our dear friend Johnny Topside?"

I crossed my arms & leaned back in my seat. "He's not here for what Ryan thinks he is if that's what you're asking. He was looking into the disappearances of big name people like Steinman & Cohen. Understandable since most of us just upped & left. No warning to our families or associates at all just like Ryan requested."

Sinclair hummed in response & watched as Johnny was once again swarmed by people working for the Tribune, Standard, & the Daily Post. Johnny made the excuse of going to see one of Cohen's shows as a means to escape the mob & disappeared through the bulkhead tunnel door.

Sinclair let out a loud sigh & announced, "Well, as much as you love our chats, I have to get back to work. All these businesses don't run themselves, you know." He threw some money down on the table for the wine he was drinking & snuffed his cigarette out in the ashtray. He gave me one last thousand dollar Steinman smile & left towards the bathysphere station, leaving me to sit & bask in the welcomed silence with the exception of the small talk people around me were doing, but I could easily block them out.

Almost a full year I had been working for Sinclair; nearly 7 years living in Rapture; almost 6 years without any hide or hair of my mother coming around asking for money which that in itself was a blessing. And for once, I enjoyed where I was at. Aside from the occasional splicer attack & dealing with Stanley, I could tolerate it & for once worrying about getting a shiv in my belly was not on the top of my priority list. It was still there, don't get me wrong, but I wasn't as worried about it as I was before Sinclair came around.

The title of 'duct-rat' did come with perks. I didn't know anyone else with that title attached to their person since it used to mean something equal to the excrement stuck to the bottom of one's boot, but now being a duct-rat was a job that I could pride myself in saying I did quite well. I may still dress the same as I did when I first made the deal with Sinclair -brown trousers, a white work shirt & worn shoes with socks- but that was just what I was used to wearing for climbing through the air ducts.

I downed the rest of Sinclair's left over wine & left, returning to the Limbo Room to watch a show as I had promised Grace after my visit to her a week ago.

The Limbo Room was packed with the people of Pauper's Drop, waiting to hear the songs that Grace would sing about life in the Drop. Grace made her way to the stage, her beautiful voice immediately filling the room with her songs, making people in the room smile, clap & dance along with the words. Some even started to sing-a-long having heard it before, but even that was butchered since most couldn't remember 2/3rds of the song.

I gave Grace a rare smile & leaned against the back wall, crossing my arms. Grace was a beautiful woman, even with her twilight years coming up on her. She had the wrinkles to signify her age, but age was kind, aging her like a fine wine. She was still beautiful & people often gave James a clap on the shoulder saying how lucky he was. Even now in her blue sun dress with a yellow scarf wrapped around her gracefully neck, she shined like a star, her face showing the feelings of her words. She expressed the sympathy & understanding as the songs required, but there was also a sadness to it, which had never been there before. I glanced around for any sign of James, but was shocked to not see his curly head of hair anywhere. He was always at Grace's shows, showing support for the woman he loved.

Perhaps he got caught up at work or was sick. No need to jump to any conclusions just yet.

The show came to a close & the Limbo was slowly emptied out. Grace waved me towards the backstage area & I followed, looking around for any wandering eye on myself or on Grace. Grace's dressing room was just how I had left it the day I moved into the apartment in Artemis Suites; the same vanity covered in makeup & other necessities, only difference was a new picture of Grace & James embracing each other with smiles on their faces & a note from James saying _With all my love, x James_. A nice little token of love from James, nothing too extravagant, but romantic nonetheless just like what Grace deserved.

"James is gone..." Grace stated, her voice cracking to show she was holding back tears.

"What?" James? Grace's James? He was gone?

"I think he was trying to organize the folks against Ryan... And now he's gone!" Grace explained, the tears starting to fall. My face fell- now I understood.

There was a little talk about rebelling against Ryan, about making him see what was really happening down here, but normally that was as far as it went: talk. And all it would take is one squealer to come squealing to Sullivan & locked up in Persephone. "And now..." Grace choked out, her hands clenching her dress. "I'm scared to death that they're going to come for me!"

This was not what Grace deserved. There was no way I was going to let Ryan take Grace from her place here. Sure, she didn't deserve the Drop, but the people needed her or else there'd be riots in the streets & a lot more dead. Her music flooding the intercoms of Pauper's Drop got people through the day; I know it soothed me on more than one occasion from the fears of Rapture's nights & the madness around me. "James was the only man I ever loved... Now it's like he never came to Rapture," She spoke, mostly to distract herself from the pain of losing him. "He heard me sing in the Limbo Room, came up all bashful." She smiled at the memory. "He liked to hear songs about what really happens here in this town."

I remembered that night. It was one of the first nights I had spent sleeping in Grace's dressing room for the night. I had arrived earlier than normal to hear Grace sing again & watched James ask her on a date. He had a bouquet of lilies with him, wrapped in white tissue paper. Never had I seen a black man blush that red before; looked like a cherry I had thought & made me giggle at the notion. James never knew why I had unconsciously called him 'Red' for a while until I was a little older & could fully explain it to him in a way that made sense.

I allowed myself to give Grace a comforting hug to try & ease her pain, but I knew that the loss of James was hard for her. "I'm sorry," I whispered. I gave her one last squeeze before releasing her.

I walked her home, just listening to her tell stories of the things she & James had done to put her mind at ease. The few stories about Eleanor Lamb caught my attention though. I heard of Sofia's daughter, but it sounded like this girl was a genius being home-schooled by Sofia herself, isolated from the rest of Rapture's children & society. I didn't know if I should dislike the girl for being Sofia's child or feel pity for her because she's Sofia's child.

She gave me another hug when we reached her door in the Sinclair Deluxe & retreated inside to no doubt cry herself to sleep, knowing she was going to sleep without James for the first time in a long time.

I let out a long sigh at Ryan's growing cruelty: James didn't deserve to be locked up in Persephone. He just wanted things better for the people of the Drop which shouldn't entitle imprisonment. But going against Ryan, I guess, held a death sentence.

And with the coming new year, Ryan would only get worse. Getting better was not in the near future for sure. Ryan growing a single moral bone in his body was like asking a jellyfish to do the same. I didn't know how much I could keep Grace out of the line of fire, knowing she had gone to see Sofia Lamb; the very woman I was working with Sinclair & Ryan to take down, not that I'd ever tell Grace that.

My apartment seemed more darker now. While I was snug asleep in my bed, James was trapped in Persephone. I knew Sinclair wasn't the worst owner in the world & made sure the inmates were fed properly, but it was still prison, no different than those on the surface.

Less than a month had passed & Sinclair had dragged me along to the New Years party at the Sinclair Spirits. 1955: a year no different than last year. But what truly surprised me was that Fontaine had made an appearance. Only briefly, but it was enough to drive a stake of fear in me. Fontaine was someone I both respected & feared despite everything else in Rapture. Fontaine was nothing but a conman who always manages to be where the evidence isn't like any top-rate conman. He was the most dangerous type of conman as well; the kind with vision. He was the one who initially funded the research into ADAM when Tenenbaum discovered it, deciding the kraut's crazy ideas might make a profit. If anyone was going to take Rapture from Ryan, it was Fontaine no doubt about it.

I had overheard that Fontaine was getting a new secretary having fired that old betty that used to work for him & constantly bitched about him at the Fighting McDonaghs. I've heard my fair share of an earful from her when I'd turn into her venting post.

Fontaine had left about an hour after he had arrived with a cigar between his teeth & his hired muscle behind him. Sinclair clapped me on the shoulder & said, "Well, that was bracin'. I sent that invitation as a joke."

"What did you expect from Fontaine? He's not exactly quiet about his businesses or his presence. Much like you but scarier."

"I'm not scary?" He took a minor offense to the comment.

I gave him a skeptical look & said, "Sinclair, you're about as terrifying as a box full of lizards. Some may find you scary, but to me, lizards aren't scary at all."

"A box full of lizards?"

"Yes."

Sinclair hummed again & inhaled his nicotine stick. "I guess that's not the worst I've been called."

"I could get more creative."

"No, no, a box of lizards is fine & dandy." Sinclair moseyed on to talk to a few other of his clients.

There were a few others noteworthy like Hector Rodriguez. He was another of Cohen's disciples; a musician that favored the acoustic guitar over any other string instrument I knew he could play. He also favored a bottle of whatever he could get his hands on over human contact aside from Kyle Fitzpatrick (in more way than one, which I don't judge over) & Silas Cobb (with his music).

Diane McClintock was also there with acclaimed actress Blanche de Glace & , enjoying the variety of wine Sinclair had sold in the brewery at a discount for the New Years party. She looked distressed about something, but every time she'd try to voice her problem to Blanche she was thoroughly ignored by the woman flirting with the man next to her, enticing him with her flowing french accent. Diane eventually gave up trying to talk to her 'friend' & lost herself in her wine.

"Hello, stranger!" I spun around to see none other than Johnny Topside standing there with a glass of wine in hand & his other hand stuffed in his pocket again. He looked nice, his dark brown hair gelled into fashion without a single hair out of place, his tanned face cleanly shaved & eyebrows plucked into shape. He was dressed in a simple italian cut suit that was designed to give one the appearance of an hourglass figure with a purple colored tie around his neck to complete the ensemble. "Fancy meeting you here."

I shrugged. "I'm in the business of knowing what's-what. It's not that much of a surprise that I'm here."

"'Business of knowing what's-what'? Tell me this then: Why is it whenever I ask about you, people never seem to know who you are, much less than needed to get you the recognition to come to Sinclair's New Years party."

I gave him credit: he was smart which is probably why he was assigned to the investigation of the disappearances of the the surface's finest. "Here for a month & already thinks he knows how Rapture works. No one knows me, because I'm good at my job," I answered. "If everyone knew me, I'd be out of business."

"So asking for your name would be a stupid question."

"You learn fast."

"Name for a name?"

"Doesn't work that way I'm afraid, Topside."

Johnny rolled his eyes & announced, "My name's Johnathan Teetapolis. Apparently that's too hard to pronounce so it became Johnny Topside."

"Can't say I blame them. 'Teetapolis' seems like a mouthful, no offense."

"None taken. So, why'd you come to Rapture? Every stiff has their story."

"But not every stiff wants to tell their story."

Johnny let out a laugh at my neglect to answer any of his questions. "I'm sensing this is going to be a game of cat & mouse the whole night if I keep going as I am."

"Depends on who's the cat." I sighed & gave Johnny a look. "Look, just understand that I am not someone who gives up their life story just because someone asked. I wouldn't say it's a privilege either. If that makes me heartless, then I have an empty cavity where my heart should be."

Johnny clicked his tongue in distaste at the comment & said, "There has to be something that makes you feel all warm & fuzzy."

"A hot bowl of soup makes me feel all warm & fuzzy."

Johnny threw up his spare hand & exclaimed, "I'm getting nowhere with you!"

"Sorry that I don't make it easy."

"10! 9! 8!" The crowd started to chant, gathering around the TV to watch the globe drop down until it touched the statue at the top of the lighthouse. Johnny pressed a glass of wine into my hand & raised his glass to get ready to toast the new year. "7! 6! 5!" I shook my head at the blatant attempt to gain my favor, but held up my glass nonetheless to humor the man. "4! 3!" Johnny smiled at the motion. "2! 1! HAPPY NEW YEAR!" We clinked glasses & took a drink of our wine. The welcomed distraction of a woman asking Johnny to dance allowed me to make my escape


	8. Rapture Devil

Dymond: A new chapter! I'm happy because Camille is going to make more of an appearance in this than the brief mention in the previous chapter. it's going into the first meeting Camille had with Sinclair that caused him to worm his way into her life & cause a bit of turmoil between her & Fontaine. Onward then to my start of the collaboration. CaliforniaStop got a little bit of a jump on me so I'll have to play a fun game of catch-up. Unhappy? Hell no! Excited! More incentive to work faster! I love the challenge!

Going to be going off of her story with Sinclair's parts to keep up with both accuracy & balance so that the two stories do intersect & as I said Camille & Jamie don't officially meet until 1958.

I blasted through Bioshock on the hardest difficulty with a lot of swearing, rage quitting & threatening violence on the creators of the game before I finally beat the game with great satisfaction of the last proximity mine that blew Fontaine straight to hell (after dying during the battle for the upteenth time). Inspiration is very violent I must tell you.

You know the drill: Rate, review, love, hate, I don't care just don't set on fire.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~(Rapture!)

Only 2 months into 1955 had passed before Johnny Topside became a ghost; completely wiped from Rapture's records & people told to forget him. Sinclair had said that he was surprised that Johnathan Teetapolis had lasted as long as he did with Ryan's paranoia, but figured it was my lack of anything incriminating on him that kept him safe mostly. His downfall was his own doing: he made the mistake of voicing to Sullivan of all people that Ryan was a little power hungry that earned him the one-way trip to Persephone. Did I feel bad for him or guilty that I couldn't save him? No. I warned him that he wasn't to let his guard down for a second.

And he thought I was just joking.

Now he was Inmate 237 in Cell Block A.

Sinclair had caught wind of Fontaine's new secretary being a young thing from Finance & was coming in today. His own secretary had left several minutes prior to me arriving in his office after Sinclair had sent a letter. She had left a second cup of coffee for myself, but that cup was swatted across the room as I shouted, "You're insane!" The outburst was because Sinclair had voiced that I should go see what the new secretary was like.

"What's insane about it?"

"She's _Fontaine's secretary_ which translates in my language to _completely off limits or end up dead_! Did I not discuss this with you?"

"Yes you discussed this, but we never agreed that Fontaine was out of your range. We agreed that only Gracie was off limits." He was going to pull this with me. He was actually going to pull this with me. And I didn't have much of a choice but to agree.

"You must really want me dead," I stated crossing my arms in a huff.

Sinclair chuckled humorously as he corrected, "I'm not trying to get you killed, my dear Jamie. But soon I'm goin' to be arrangin' a meetin' with ol' Franky & I'd like to know who he has in his arsenal. I already know about his bodyguards, but this is a new player in our game of chess. I have to know if I need to move a pawn to take her out or use her to swing around to the king. And if I know you, you won't let anythin' happen that would get me into a predicament where it comes back at you."

I shook my head seeing his logic: anything happened to Sinclair would come back to bite me in the ass in the long run. I had tried my best to keep my losses from Sinclair at the lowest, but when you had nothing to begin with anything Sinclair gave me was the best thing that a duct-rat like me could receive. It'd take a good set of chain cutters to cut ties with Sinclair now. The moment the wrong party got a hold of that file: Jamie Donovan would become known to the public.

I comforted myself with telling myself that spying on someone more close to my age was a nice change since it meant that they weren't the typical captain of industry who believed he was god or a grumpy bastard who worked in Hephaestus like ol' Peachy & that meant they didn't have their head up their ass. It was quite the change from the bitch that used to be Fontaine's secretary; I scratched the cigarette burn mark from the venting session the betty had given me when she realized I wasn't listening to her at all. I got a free burger from McDonagh who was working that night & witnessed the attack, but it didn't stop the uncontrolled scream of pain.

I took a position in the air vent over the soon-to-be secretary's desk area & relaxed, ready for the long haul. The only excitement so far had been Fontaine exiting his office. Fontaine had taken to looking over the desk to make sure everything was in place like he had no doubt told someone to do.

He was about to return to his office when the click-clack of heels caught both of our attentions. She wasn't what I expected entirely: young, jumpy, but polite-to-a-fault with blonde hair & pretty blue eyes. In her arms was a box of her belongings & her coat. Sinclair would get a kick out of her when he saw her. This was the woman unfortunate enough to get put to work for Fontaine, even if it was only temporary until they found someone to fill the position permanently.

"Mr. Fontaine...?" She questioned hesitantly.

"Kid, if you gotta ask then I dunno if I can keep you employed here," The uncharacteristic tease came in reply from Fontaine.

I could already tell that Fontaine was amused by the smaller woman. "Shit," She groaned loud enough for me to hear without having to strain. Curse Fontaine & his high ceilings. "I'm really sorry. I'm all over the place. I..." She trailed off. She shifted the box in her hands & held out her hand for Fontaine to take. "My name is Camille Adler. I hope I'm not late."

Camille Adler. Interesting name to say in the least. It was a name that a few women from Finance had mentioned during their lunch break gossip that I had listened in on.

Fontaine gave her the run down on her workspace & what she'd be doing for him. I took my chance to leave when he brought her into his office; listening in on Fontaine's business did not settle well with me: Sinclair would just have to work that himself. I wondered if she knew what Fontaine's business was truly like & how long she'd last knowing what she did. Almost contemplating making a bet with Sinclair to make the outcome a little interesting, but decided against it.

I dropped out of the air vents into Sinclair's office only to see he wasn't there, probably dealing with something or another over at one of his many businesses. I sat down patiently on the lounge chair situated opposite of his desk & drummed my fingers on the material.

My thoughts drifted once more to Camille Adler: How did someone like her end up in Rapture? I had seen her once before only briefly around the Artemis Suites, but paid no mind to her aside from where she worked. Before, she was someone I wouldn't have considered to mention to Sinclair, but with her new position as Fontaine's secretary she had put herself on my radar, poor thing. To top it off, her apartment was only a few doors away from me.

Sinclair walked into his office a few minutes later & jumped a little spotting me sitting on his couch. "Back already?"

"I get my work done quick. Or did you not figure that out?"

Sinclair smiled, then asked, "So what do you find out, darlin'?"

"Her name is Camille Adler. A pretty thing, maybe a little skittish, but otherwise it seems like Fontaine wants to keep her."

He quirked an eyebrow. "He wants to keep her? What gave that away?"

"He made a joke during the initial meeting. Fontaine normally has the habit of scaring the _shit_ out of his new employees from day one regardless if he was hiring them or not."

"Is this the same Frank we're talking about?"

"The same Frank fucking Fontaine we're talking about," I replied smoothly.

Sinclair hummed appreciatively, drumming his fingers against his desk as he took a seat in his chair. "Seems Miss Adler is one to keep an eye on. She's out ticket in the door if treated correctly. It's one thing to have a contract from Fontaine Futuristics, but it's another to get the insider on ol' Franky."

"Good luck with that."

"Oh don't think you're not goin' with."

That was how I found myself once again in the air vents as Sinclair made his way to Fontaine's office a few weeks later.

Camille had gotten the Fontaine Scare Tactic treatment after all. It was a bit more lavish than the rest had gotten with the show at Fort Frolic he was successful in putting her in her place. And she was moved out of Artemis Suites to Olympus Heights, a stone's throw from Fontaine's personal elevator. She had no idea what she was getting herself in to; there was a reason Fontaine had the reputation equal to the Boogeyman. The location change did next to nothing on my visual on her, but made things a little more difficult with that paparazzi guy snooping around all the time.

An annoying little bugger, but what did one expect from paparazzi? I swear he slept with a camera. It was this little vermin of a man that had spread the rumor about Sinclair & I so it took everything I had not to hunt him down & strangle him with the camera strap.

When I reached my designated section of the air vents overlooking the secretary's desk I was quick to realize that it was hotter than hell in here. I was going to seriously injury Sinclair for putting me through this. Sweat dripped off of my nose & I wiped away what sweat I could on to my sleeve

Fontaine had come out & after an exchange of words told her to go & collect Sinclair from the reception area. It only took a few brief minutes for Camille to return with Sinclair in tow discussing the conditions of the room that was supposed to be the coolest room in the building that she could find. If she thought it was hot down there, I silently wished that she was in here sweating her nonexistent balls off for the sake of being Sinclair's moral support.

The room she led him into where Fontaine was already waiting in one of the black leather seats, his fingers drumming unconsciously on the table. He stood up one Sinclair was in his line of sight & stuffed on of his hands into his pockets, the other extending out to Sinclair. "Hey Gus," He greeted smoothly. "Good to see ya."

I almost scoffed; Fontaine was as happy to see Sinclair as one was happy to find a rattlesnake in his bed. Sinclair had probably thought the same thing I did when his eyes narrowed & he gripped Fontaine's hand, giving it a firm shake. "Yes, good to see you too, Frank."

Camille seemed to be a little on edge about leaving these two alone. If I had to put words to watching Frank Fontaine & Augustus Sinclair stare each other down was something like watching a gunfight about to go off in the O.K Corral. I didn't even know who would come out of that one alive since Fontaine was a conman good at his job while Sinclair had conmen in his pocket, whether free or locked up in Persephone.

Fontaine had his secretary get them some drinks & after she returned, Sinclair grabbed her wrist & asked for an ashtray: my queue to follow Camille once again & that he had the rest of this meeting handled. I glanced down at Sinclair a little wary of leaving him alone with a man that had most of the working class terrified, myself included, but I knew Sinclair had dealt with Fontaine before. This would be no different than the rest.

Camille spent the rest of the meeting at her desk with a folded paper fan in hand & repeated getting glasses of water which tormented me to no end. Water sounded absolutely delightful right now, but it wasn't like I could jump down & get a glass myself without giving myself away. On top of that I couldn't just leave Sinclair here. Sinclair wasn't one of hired muscle, but would normally have one standing on hand in case things went south. Sinclair, the bastard, figured I'd be enough protection with the element of surprise on my side, but I knew Fontaine's muscle wasn't too far off, both of which had some their fair share of gene splicing making it a very dangerous outcome for me.

He was trying to get me killed, I swear to god.

Sinclair & Fontaine finally emerged from the meeting no worse for wear from what I could tell. Sinclair purposely made a pass at the secretary to get under Fontaine's skin as he had a habit of doing with people he worked with. "Kid, show him out," Fontaine ordered. He stormed into his office & gave the poor door a final slam to show he was pissed.

The meeting had gone very well for Sinclair it seemed. "It... didn't go so well, I guess?" She asked carefully in case Fontaine was still listening.

Sinclair let out some air & said, "I thought it went _very _well, but I s'pse your boss is a temperamental man, hmm?" Understatement of the year.

"You could say that," She replied in a hushed tone.

Smart girl, even if Fontaine was out of earshot, that didn't mean that he didn't have ears every where. But also not smart for voicing that to Sinclair & unknowingly me. Anything bad said about Fontaine from his employees found that their stay in Rapture would be cut short like Sammy G who had voiced that he was going to go to the constable. Heard Fontaine's boys had him locked in a freezer in the fisheries awaiting Fontaine's arrival.

"I'm sure he'll be fine by this evening. It's just the heat &-"

She was making excuses for him. Cute. I shook my head & crawled back towards the bathysphere station to wait for him to return. I dropped out of the vents near the maintenance office & emerged myself in the small crowd of people milling about either waiting for the okay from the operator to go or waiting for their friends to arrive. I leaned against the wall to wait for Sinclair, appreciating the cool air around the bathysphere station despite the number of people.

"Hello, stranger," Sinclair greeted with a smirk. He stuffed his hands in his pockets & braced himself for the inevitable yelling he was about to receive.

"I will have a firm discussion with you later about having me wait in a hotter than hell air vent while you talk business with Fontaine later. Right now, I just want to get out of here," I stated giving him the stink eye.

"Are you feelin' all right, darlin'?" He asked trying to bring the anger off of him a little. "Maybe you need one of Dr. Hollcroft's Cure-All. That's what the people of Pauper's Drop get right?"

I shot him a glare. "Do you have any idea what is actually in that? It's only sea-water, fish guts, your whole-sale hypos & a couple ounces of ADAM in each bottle. It's just a placebo. Doesn't do anything."

"Capitalism."

We were given the clear to enter Sinclair's bathysphere & return to his office building. It was right to business once we were locked in his office again. "So, what do you think about Miss Adler?" He asked. His hands folded together without thinking.

I leaned against the coral desk with my back turned to him. "Personally, I think she's going to get eaten if she doesn't drop the goody-two-shoes act, but then again I'm sure Fontaine gotten that point across all ready."

"What about gettin' her to cooperate with me? I need every angle I can get on ol' Franky. He's dangerous."

"I know. Just keep giving the charming smile & she should be yours. Working with Fontaine has gotten you that foothold with her. Fontaine's one scary sonnova bitch & not many people are willing to openly talk about him, except..."

"Me."

"Exactly. You seem to be the only person I know who isn't terrified of him."

Sinclair chuckled & lit himself a smoke. "You do business as long as I have, you learn to not let Fontaine's type get the better of you. I may not be a conman, but I can think like a conman."

They elapsed into silence for a few moments before Sinclair smiled like the Cheshire. "What?" I asked, wondering that the man had on his mind.

"You think my smile is charmin'?"

I groaned & leapt up into the air vent before he could ask any more stupid questions to stagger me again.

Damn Sinclair. Catching me on an obvious slip up on my part. Sinclair was a charming bastard, there was no denying it having used his charm to get him a lot of business. He knew that! Why did he specifically point out that _I_ had called his smile charming?

I banged my head sharply against the metal walls of the air vent & sighed. Damn Sinclair.

"Wha's tha'? Rat in the vents?" I heard someone question, with the level of speech of a backwater redneck. Splicer...

Bullets ricocheted through the thin metal walls of my means of travel making me unconsciously yelped & crawl frantically to get away. "I'll get dis rat!" The metal grate directly behind me burst up & in crawled one of those Crawlers.

"Shit!" I groaned crawling as fast as I could. There was no way I was going to make it; the closest vent was Sinclair's. But maybe if I double around... Sinclair's section of air vents traveled almost completely in a square with two drop off points that I could slip around if I move correctly. And if I was lucky, the Crawler would fall down the dead fall & I'd lose him.

A hook nearly got my shoe. Settled! I kicked back to startle the splicer long enough for me to get a few seconds head start.

The first drop off came around & I grabbed the other side of the vent pulling myself over. The splicer repeated my action, but his lower half fell into the drop off. I scrambled to gain some distance as he managed to scramble his way back into the chase. "C'mere girlie! I won't hurt'cha!" He taunted, his hooks clanking against the metal walls.

The second drop off was around a corner making it a little more difficult to prevent one from falling down the drop. I laid on my side & pulled myself around the corner a little slower than I should have... A hook got my leg making me scream. It was a miracle that my other foot had connected with the splicers head, forcing him to release his grip on the hook. I had no time to pull the hook out so I stomached the pain & dragged myself using pure upper body strength towards the open vent leading into Sinclair's office.

I could almost smell his cologne breezing through the vent, the smell of his cigarette with real tobacco, the sound of his pen scratching across whatever paperwork he was doing; all of it beautiful right about now because that meant help. My hand reached the lip of the vent like reaching the finish line.

I spun around just as the splicer gave a leap at me forcing us through the hole & into Sinclair's office. My back slammed painfully into the carpeted floor that did little to cushion my fall; the hook in my leg dug in deeper causing me to scream.

Sinclair shot up in his seat at the sight of the splicer & myself. "Jamie!"

"Just get out of here! Go! Get security!" I shouted grabbing the splicer's hand still holding a hook. Sinclair weaved around his desk & ran out the door to so as I said.

"Gettin' help? That's not very nice!" The splicer laughed maniacally bringing his arm down again.

My knee shifted between our bodies & I kicked as hard as I could to send the splicer across the room. I scrambled on my hands & one foot until I reached the stand with a potted plant situated on top & cracked it against the splicer's temple, knocking him right the fuck out.

Dropping the vase, I leaned against the bookshelf besides the stand, out of breath & out of my sanity. It had been months since I had a real fight with a splicer that caused any sort of damage... The pain rocketed up my leg when the adrenaline started to fade. "Fuck..." I cursed gripping my leg tight to try & alleviate some of the burning pain, but it did little. Blood soaked Sinclair's carpet around the leg with the hook still in it.

Clenching my jaw tight, my hand wrapped around the hook imbedded in my flesh. With one final scream, the hook came out & was thrown at the splicer's body. Fuck plasmids, fuck ADAM, fuck Rapture...

Sinclair returned within a few short minutes with about 4 burly guards to drag the splicer out.

He kneeled in front of me & touched my sweaty forehead. "You alright, Jamie?" He asked before his other hand fell into the blood pool on the floor. "Marcus!" He called out to the trailing burly guard. "We need to get her to medical." He tore of his jacket & pressed it to the injury.

"Yessir."

"Sinclair, no. I'm fine. I just need to get-"

"You need to get your arse to medical before you lose the leg. Don't argue with me, Hawkeye!" Despite the nickname, I knew he was angry that I was even fighting against going to medical despite the damage & blood loss. I for once stayed silent & let him do what he wanted.

The walk to the bathysphere was quiet. The ride all the more so. It wasn't until we were in the Medical Pavilion that he said something. "That was foolish of you," He stated starting on his 4th cigarette since the fight in his office.

I only gave him a weak glare & held his suit jacket to the bleeding. "I'm sorry. Next time I'll just let the splicer kill me."

"That's not what I meant, Jamie."

"Then what did you mean? Explain it to me!"

Sinclair looked me dead in the eye & said, "You fought one of those splicers by yourself. I didn't know if it'd kill you before I could get there with help. Darlin', I'll admit I was worried."

I let out a shaky breath to calm myself down. Sinclair was in his right to worry; I just took down a splicer with one of his potted plants right smack dab in his office. The blood stain from my leg would probably never come out & he'd probably have to get it replaced.

Steinman was quick to get me into surgery to repair my leg & judging by the noises he was making, I'm luck I didn't lose the damn leg. "There was obvious damage to the leg muscle, but thankfully no major arteries & veins were ruptured. I'm repaired what I could & have stitched up the injury. She'll have to stay off her leg for a few weeks to allow it to heal properly," Steinman advised. "Were you thinking of getting her a nose job while she's in?"

Sinclair gave him a look & said, "No thank you." Steinman shrugged, _suit yourself_.

The crutches were a pain in the ass to work & if Sinclair wasn't there, I would have ditched them. I was on enough morphine to at least get me to my apartment without feeling a think. "You heard the doc," Sinclair smiled sympathetically at me. "You have to stay off the leg for a while."

"But what about work?" I questioned.

Sinclair waved his hand & said, "I'll just give you jobs that won't require the use of the air vents. Don't you worry your pretty little head."

"Sinclair?" I looked up at his taller figure.

I never really noticed how handsome he was; mostly being distracted by my annoyance of the Georgian. He wasn't all that pudgy as I had made him out to be. He wasn't built per se, but trimmed enough to make him appealing to look at which was perfect for business. His charcoal black hair was gelled with every hair in place, I couldn't even see the gray that should have been there. I couldn't decide if his hair was natural & the gray hadn't come in yet or if he dyed it. His eyes were a entrancing shade of green that lured you in to giving up your wallet, but they were looking at me with a concern I never thought he had. I could tell his skin was once tanned, but years in Rapture had depleted the color to a shade of pale that matched everyone else. He wasn't intimidating like Fontaine, but could still control a room with the wave of a hand.

Augustus Sinclair got on every nerve in my body, but quite frankly, I wouldn't have had it any other way. Picturing my life without Sinclair was like a fish without water to put it into words.

"Call me Augustus. Yes?"

"Augustus... Thanks. I don't think I've ever thanked you during this whole mess."

He smiled. "It's no problem, Jamie. As we've agreed, I take care of my assets."

I smiled as well. "Yeah. And I'm the best asset you have."

He patted my back lightly as if he was afraid he'd damage me more. "Without a doubt, darlin'."

With his help, I got into his bathysphere & his driver took us to Apollo Square. Sinclair didn't just leave me in the station as I expected him to. No, he got out & helped me all the way home earning a few stares from the people around us, but I was hurt they could fuck off. He opened the door to my apartment for me & settled me on the couch

"Augustus!" I exclaimed. "I'm okay. I can take it from here. Go home. It's late." Sinclair left, but not before hesitating at the door & giving me one last look over.

Fighting for my life once again really got me thinking about Sinclair: Augustus Sinclair drove me absolutely nuts, but he meant well. The man was infuriatingly charming & despite the barrier I had up to keep men like him out, he worked to gain my favor by giving the option of freedom & safety from the demons that prowled the night. He gave me a home, gave me money, gave me his undivided attention when we conversed & what did I give him in return? Information & the cold shoulder half the time.

Damn grateful I was...

He was a wealthy & successful businessman who knew how to play someone like a harp while I was a Pauper's Drop duct-rat that used to have no penny to my name or any form of status.

He wasn't a saint by far. Sinclair had his fingers where they shouldn't belong & smiled in the face of someone else's misfortune if it meant gaining him a profit & would sell paradise if it meant he'd get a fat wad of cash to line his pockets. But for a moment, I could convince myself that he genuinely cared about me & my safety instead of the damage done to his office & the profit he'd be losing. If it wasn't the case, I'd rather not hear it. I would rather believe the lie that he cared just to live in the fantasy a little longer.

If there was a God out there, he definitely delivered Grace Holloway & Augustus Sinclair to me; Grace delivered in a beautiful package with a bow & Sinclair in a package wrapped in newspaper that made the opener think _it's the thought that counts._

My hand found the remote & I flipped on the telly, watching Rapture's news channel to numb my mind.


	9. Rapture Bird

Dymond: A bit of jealousy from Donovan to Adler, but she'll get over it eventually one Sinclair sets her straight. Onward to my game of catch-up! I'm trying to hurry up since I'm going to be leaving in 30 days for Basic Training & I may just pass the reins over to someone since I'm not sure when I'll be able to work on it again. I'll figure something out.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~(Rapture!)

My leg ached in it's wrap as the nurse finished her wrap job. These trips to the Medical Pavilion were starting to piss me off since my clothes were starting to stink of antiseptic & death, but only because Sinclair insisted did I even step foot in the place to get my cast changed out. I was set to burn every poster of Steinman's Aesthetic Ideals in the middle of the room if I had to stare at it any longer. I was more keen to set Steinman on fire if he asked about my nose one more time; I liked my nose the way it was & he'd have to get over it. I didn't care how much of a master cosmetic surgeon he was, I was not going to stoop as low as most of the women in Rapture who would flock to get their face sliced open by Steinman's scalpel for the look of beauty.

"Well it looks like the injury has healed enough to where you don't need to use crutches anymore. But please be cautious with whatever activity you do for it may open the injury again & that is not something you'd want," The nurse informed politely filling out a few things on the clipboard. "Thank you for coming, Miss Hawkeye."

Things were going interesting between Sinclair & Adler from what I am led to believe. He had informed me of their dinner they had at the Kashmir during the party Cohen was throwing to show off a bit of his new show or something like that. Sinclair had managed to convince her to come eat dinner when him when she was showing some jealousy of Jasmine Jolene, who was pregnant with Ryan's kid (Sinclair laughed when he heard this). Ryan of course didn't know about the pregnancy. The gold fo the evening: Fontaine had left her alone at the Kashmir to find her own way back to Olympus Heights & she had gone to Sinclair for help. I was ear raped with the details, but something scared the shit out of me as I was listening to it: Jealousy.

I always thought I wasn't a jealous person, but apparently this girl getting escorted home by Sinclair struck a nerve that I didn't even know had existed until then.

I exited the examination room with a minor limp -happy to be rid of my crutches- in time to see two splicers going at it over whose ADAM was whose with electrobolt & the new telekinesis plasmid. I thought nothing of it until someone shouted, "Miss Adler!" I was in the crowd in an instant. The poor woman was on the ground holding her bleeding head from a picture frame projectile. The two splicers were brought under control & dragged away & someone from Fontaine's marketing was helping Adler to her feet. Gary? Garret? Garris Fisher. "Can you stand?" He asked once he got her upright.

Adler's eyes shut from the pain she was in before her knees buckled again. I shook my head & pushed my way through the crowd when no one was trying to help the downed woman. Up close, she was pretty, thin & all in all the type of woman Sinclair would take notice of.

I helped a few of the nurses get the groaning & disoriented Camille Adler into a wheelchair with a little muscle from her dead weight. "Look at what you did to my clinic!" Steinman shouted over the uproar of people trying to get out of the area & out of the doctor's way. I took my leave.

I had informed him of the incident down in the Medical Pavilion & he immediately asked, "Is Miss Camille all right?" It struck a nerve again.

"She'll be fine."

Sinclair nodded, rubbing his chin in thought. "Very well. Go home & relax off those pain killers. See ya tomorrow, darlin'," he smiled giving me a wave as I hobbled out. I had failed to tell Sinclair that Camille had the day off tomorrow, but it was no skin off my back.

My apartment was quiet once again; I didn't even have the telly or the radio on. The neighbors had fallen into a silent haze as well so I didn't hear about how Tommy cheated on Suzie or some nonsense they got into fights about. I could blame it on the pain killers coursing through my veins, but in reality I knew it was about Sinclair.

I propped my injured leg on the arm of my couch & sighed. It was going to be an interesting day tomorrow & I knew Sinclair would drag me along for a sort of security blanket.

My arms crossed over my eyes & let slumber catch up to me so the pain killers could wear off.

I nearly fell off my couch the next morning when my phone started ringing obnoxiously. "Sinclair..." I growled tearing the phone off the receiver. "Yes?"

_"Guess what! You're going to be needed today."_

"Because you're going to be walking through Pauper's Drop to the Limbo Room. I know." I twirled the cord around a finger habitually. It was where Stanley had arranged for us to meet. Sinclair had surprised me saying he would take the meeting this time, but I knew he would ask Miss Adler to come.

_"And the great Hawkeye sees all."_

"I'll go to Pauper's Drop," I sighed before setting the phone gingerly on the receiver. Sucking up my pride, I changed into a clean pair of clothes, cleaned up my bandages & changed them out again. With one last look in the mirror, I was out the door.

The familiar hum of the neon of the King Pawn sign was a welcomed relaxation as I scanned over the crowds of workers & the downtrodden. A few even pointed up to me, probably realizing that I was back in my spot again after being out of it for so long. I nearly missed the solitude & the quiet, but then again I was starving to death when I was up here everyday & slept in the Grace's dressing room on the floor instead of my bed now.

But looking around this place, despite being damp all the time & covered in dirt & grim, it was home. Like returning to your roots despite how it all started; good or ill. The people were still the same, still the same bitter, overworked, underpaid, often homeless creatures wandering the neighborhood just trying to make ends meet. It was very rare that someone on the bottom rung of society would gain any sort of status enough to get out of Pauper's Drop. The cases of myself & Fitzpatrick were definitely a miracle. I went on to sell my soul to a demon while Fitzpatrick went to dazzle the stage with his natural talent. There were a few splicers around & the injury on my leg burned at the sight of them, but they paid me no mind. It was like this place was my own safety blanket.

My attention was drawn to the new faces that had arrived: Sinclair & Adler. They made a B-line for the Limbo Room, just as Sinclair said. Sinclair gave me a sideways glance before gesturing his head toward the Limbo discretely to avoid any unnecessary attention from Camille. I shook my head & crawled down slowly to avoid agitating my leg which hurt enough as it did.

The welcomed jazz music made the sides of my lips curl just a little. Camille & Sinclair had taken a table with a clear view of the stage. I leaned against the back wall within earshot of the two. "Lemme get you a drink," Sinclair offered, giving her a grin. "Although, I can't promise it'll be any good."

"I don't mind, Mr. Sinclair," She answered, "Some wine would be lovely."

"Done. Sit tight, an' I'll be right back." He stood up & made his way towards me. He placed a hand on my shoulder & guided me to the front bar area asking, "Do you have anything good to drink down here?"

I hated to dash his hopes, but I answered, "Mostly bathtub brewed stuff. The wine is shit."

"Not even imports?"

"The people are too poor to afford even the cheapest of imports. Sorry to disappoint."

Sinclair shook his head & said, "Understandable. Not your fault."

He ordered the 'best' wine the Limbo Room sold & returned to where Adler was sitting patiently. The bartender gave me a look & cocked his head toward Sinclair. He rasped, "What's he doing down here?"

"I'm wondering that myself."

"He never stays down here for an hour. And he's normally in his hotel, not here."

"I know." I gave the bartender a nod before moving back in to the club & resumed my spot. "I don't understand, though," Camille said. I must have dropped in the middle of a conversation. "I always thought this place was just a maintenance area. It's so poorly constructed, I don't know why anybody's living here?"

Excuse me?

"Well, nobody was supposed to be livin' down here once the city was finished. Andy Ryan promised that the housin' was only temporary, & only for the builders," Sinclair tried his best to explain.

"Then why are there people still here? People who _aren't_ workers?"

He shrugged. "When you've been at the bottom long enough, honey, it's hard to start climbin' the ladder. And to be honest, Andy Ryan doesn't want these slobs in his city. He'd rather they were hidden away down here."

I couldn't believe what I was just hearing. We were nothing but slobs to him? Then what did that make me? He claimed that he cared about me, but would openly voice what he really thought of the people down here even when he knew I was less than 5 feet away? To say I was angry would be an understatement. Livid perhaps. I didn't really care for the people of Pauper's Drop to go out of my way to help them, but I was one of the people.

"That's a terrible thing to say, Mr. Sinclair." Well that surprised me. My blood started to cool down.

"It keeps me in business, honey!"

"That's not exactly the response I was looking for, you know." Camille looked at little annoyed with Sinclair at the moment. Glad I'm not the only one.

Sinclair made a non-commital grunt, enjoying as best as he could the last of his cigarette. Sinclair's gaze repeatedly fell on me, silently asking if I had spotted Stanley Poole yet which was met with a shake of my head. Stanley had yet to show hide or hair all night so far. Made me thing that he was going to ditch us.

I kicked off the wall & moved out of the club to get a drink, god did I need one. When I returned with a glass of bathtub wine, Grace had taken the stage making me smile.

"Why isn't she singing in better establishments?" Camille had asked, stopping me in my tracks. "She's got a fantastic voice!" I glanced up at Grace again; clothed an old beaded dress. I was glad someone agreed with me, but Ryan would never allow it.

"Because Ryan won't have her singin' any o' her depressin' tunes - they won't resonate with a lot of people. He only wants to hear people singin' good things about the city."

As much as Sinclair was right, it didn't feel any better. Grace deserved so much more than this dump. If she was allowed, she could rule Fort Frolic; people flocking to hear her beautiful voice, buying her records

They didn't talk about anything else other than Sofia Lamb who had arrived to watch Grace sing. I hadn't met the ice queen in person before, just would notice her when she'd travel around the Drop. She was a genius from what the citizens would spout on about when they'd go to her sessions & every day a new patron would be wearing a butterfly pin; the Blue Morpho. Grace praised the very ground Sofia walked on which made this job a little more difficult to do. Thankfully I wasn't the one collecting info on Sofia, Stanley was.

Speaking of Stanley, he walked past me, the stench of sweat back-handing me across the face. Did the man shower at all? "Ah, Mr. Sinclair," He greeted in his typical shaky tone. "I... I didn't think I'd see you here." Meaning he was expecting me. I guess he didn't know which was worse.

"Well, hello to you too, Stanley," Sinclair greeted, grabbing Camille's hand. "This is Miss Adler. We're just here, enjoyin' the show." He leaned in & said more deliberate, "Jus' seein' how you're gettin' on."

"Real good, Mr. Sinclair, _real good._" Wrong answer.

"Well, that's jus' dandy. I'm thrilled that _all_ my money is yieldin' results which are _real good_," Sinclair snapped. "I got Ryan pullin' at my pants leg like a li'l neglected childs so I'm gonna need more than _real good._ Otherwise, I'm sure I can find someone else to do this job for me." If he was insinuating me I was going to hurt him.

"No, Mr. Sinclair, I can do this. I..." He reached inside his pocket & pulled out a small, worn notebook. "I got all this here. It's _gold_. Christ, some of the shit this woman talks about in session... Well, you can read it later." Translation: Hawkeye can read it later.

"And?"

"And _this guy_ just got an invitation to one of her movie screenings in Dionysus Park!" He seemed so proud, someone get him a fucking pony.

Sinclair grinned at the information. "Atta boy, Stanley."

"She told me it's a place where I can think freely and not be chained down by Ryan's politics. All I gotta do is keep wearing this stupid bug badge and I'm in. Too easy!"

"Well, Stanley, you've outdone yourself," Sinclair said, shooting me a look to follow up on it. "Jus' get all you can about those free thinkin' sessions and I'll be able to throw Andy Ryan a bone."

"Got it," Stanley said getting up & leaving, myself following behind him.

Once we were outside, I grabbed Stanley by the back of his neck & pulled him toward the back alley between the King Pawn sign & an apartment complex. "Sinclair wasn't kidding," I said pushing Stanley into the wall.

"H-Hawkeye?! What a surprise!" He stammered his hands up showing his surrender.

"Sofia goes down & soon, ya hear?"

"Yeah, yeah, I hear ya, I hear ya!" He slid along the wall before he had put enough distance between me & him to take off in a sprint.

And suddenly I felt more like a thug than a duct-rat. I scratched the back of my neck at the notion. Stanley was downright terrified of me, but how many others would be in the long run. Was I just another slob as Sinclair had called us? The insults never bothered me before having been a duct-rat for most of my life in Rapture; the name originating from the upper-class & lower-class alike, but to hear the simple word 'slob' from Sinclair really hit me.

I crawled back up to the King Pawn sign & sat as comfortably as I could. Sinclair & Adler finally emerged from the Limbo Room in a relative silence. Sinclair didn't even shoot me a passing glance, just kept Adler tucked under his arm & escorting her to the train station.

I sniffed in displeasure & relaxed against the neon sign, letting the hum of the electricity sooth away my stress


	10. Rapture Break

Dymond: Another update! Woohoo! I'm trying to get as much out as I can until I end up leaving for Basic Training. Anyways, as you notice, I'm getting a little more into Camille & catching up. At least I like to think I'm catching up to CaliforniaStop. It's proving to be quite the challenge that I'm enjoying. Can say I've put many hours sitting on the floor of my bedroom with my itunes playlist on shuffle working on this story/collaboration.

Only getting a break when I go & feed my grandparents cows & clean the barn. Well, onward!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~(Rapture!)

I dropped through the air vent in Sinclair's office as I had done multiple times before & dropped off an Accu-Vox reel from Jasmine Jolene admitting that she was pregnant to Anna Culpepper & that she sold the egg to Fontaine. What Fontaine would want with Jolene's spawn was a mystery to me, but I was not about to find out either. Learn the wrong thing & one would end up as either another body floating in the ocean or a stain on the floor, wall & ceiling. I said nothing to him as he took the reel in hand & smiled, congratulating me on being able to retrieve it without fuss.

That night at the Limbo Room was still fresh in my mind, a simple burning in the back of my skull. I knew the kind of person I was dealing with when it came to Sinclair, but it still hurt to hear from him that the people of Pauper's Drop, like myself, were nothing but slobs in his eyes. He had said it was Ryan thought so, but Ryan had more _colorful_ words to describe us with the intellect of a college education behind it.

I gave a nod & turned to leave, but he stopped me. "What's on your mind, Jamie? You've been quiet for a few days now." Of course Sinclair has noticed my silence.

"Nothing."

Sinclair stood up & rounded the desk until he was in front of me. "There is somethin'. You're givin' me the silent treatment again. I thought we were past this, Hawkeye. Come on, you can tell me."

I shook my head & jumped up into the vent.

It made me realize just how much I had let Sinclair in, even more than Grace. Grace knew my name of course, but I couldn't tell her that I worked for Sinclair because I couldn't trust that she wouldn't voice it to Lamb. I had told Sinclair that Grace was completely off limits showing that I was close to the woman when no one else knew about mine & Grace's relationship aside from James. And the fact that I had mentioned Grace specifically showed I had no one else, not even my mother. I'd like to think that Sofia Lamb doesn't even know about me, but I didn't know what Grace would say during their meetings; my respect for Grace & guilt keeping me from eavesdropping on the jazz singer.

I needed a burger from the Fighting McDonagh's.

It seemed like forever since my last burger there. Sinclair kept me pretty busy & Miss Adler did not stay in one place for long. I actively avoided her when she was in the company of Fontaine, but outside of work, she still did not remain in one place.

And I learned that Ryan Amusements put security turrets in the maintenance shafts. The air ducts around there did not travel through most of the park for any good advantage points forcing me to purchase my own ticket in. I had never been to Ryan Amusements prior to that day, but I was not impressed by it; especially not the ride Journey to the Surface. A bunch of bullshit if I do say so myself.

But the children seemed to enjoy it regardless if it was more a shrine to Ryan than an amusement park.

The Fighting McDonagh's wasn't full yet since most of its regulars were still at work either in the Fisheries or in Hephaestus. McDonagh was working thankfully & when he saw me come in, he slid an already made burger in front of a seat by the bar. "Missed my burger girl," He commented his Cockney accent as thick as always.

"Thanks..." I muttered taking a seat. The burger was probably the best I ever had & I gave McDonagh praise.

He shook his head & said, "It's not the best. Can't get much without good meat."

"Yes, but let's face it: there's nothing better than a burger made on a grill that didn't start out as a frozen patty."

McDonagh snorted in agreement & went back to talking with another customer.

McDonagh was probably the only person on Ryan's council that I respected. He was an older man with a thick mustache & trimmed beard, his eyes a shade of brown & the hair on his head streaked with gray. He was dressed in a simple work shirt, dark pants with overall straps going over his shoulders. His blue tie was loosened up from working all day, but it didn't do much to affect his look of strength. When he wasn't running the Fighting McDonagh's Tavern, he was working maintenance around Rapture which surprised people since he was a member of the council. One would think that he'd get someone to do the work for him.

I guess he still liked to do an honest days work before going home to the wife, if he had one. He didn't since she died a few years prior to him coming to Rapture of lung cancer. That was all anyone really knew about his wife that he was willing to say; probably too painful which was understandable.

He seemed to be Ryan's conscience when it came to decisions in the city & is probably the only one who realized the amount of unrest the poor population of Rapture have. If my information was correct, he was the one who convinced Ryan to agree to the series of debates with Sofia Lamb.

I finished my burger & left the exact total for my bill & a little more for a tip. McDonagh nodded his head as I said, "I'll be back, McDonagh."

The train ride back to Apollo Square from Neptune's Bounty was quiet; no one else in the car I was on. The train temporarily stopped at Pauper's Drop & surprisingly, Sofia Lamb stepped aboard. My breath hitched in my throat at her height; she was a good 6 feet tall compared to my meager 5 foot, 3 inches. She sat down in a seat across from me & rested her satchel on her lap.

I did not look at her out of the corner of my eye thankfully. I hoped she wouldn't recognize me from the Limbo Room.

Lady Luck would not be that merciful.

The train kicked into motion while the conductor announced, "Next stop: Apollo Square."

Lamb glanced over at me & cocked her head to the side. "You are Grace's friend." It wasn't a question, which was what I was afraid of.

"Yeah..."

Sofia gave me a warm smile. "Grace speaks often of you, very fondly I might add. She describes you as a child she never had. I'm sure you are aware of what occurred with her husband James?"

"Yeah. I know."

"Thank you for going to see her about the matter." I nodded & looked forward, trying to end the conversation. "Perhaps you could indulge me for a moment," She started. "Grace says that you have recently taken up work. Perhaps you might tell me who you work for? Grace was worried about you & your work since you seem to be getting injured."

"Sorry."

Sofia hummed in understanding. "Grace mentioned you are not one who trusts easily, much less a doctor like me." More like not trusting the woman brainwashing almost all of Pauper's Drop, Grace included, with her ideals. "In any matter, perhaps you could come with Grace to Dionysus Park. It is a retreat I have established, free of Andrew Ryan's politics & oppressions," Sofia handed me a flyer explaining everything about it.

The train finally pulled into the station in Apollo Square & I swiftly got to my feet. Much to my dismay, Lamb stood as well following me out the open doorway. I ignored her mostly, taking note that she was following me to the Artemis Suites. As I walked up the stairs, I breathed in relief when Sofia Lamb stopped to talk to a client of hers.

I was in my apartment quicker than ever, slamming the door behind me. I pressed my back against the door & slid down to the ground, letting out a puff of air.

And now I can say I've met Sofia Lamb face to face. Something I never want to do again. Sofia Lamb may have made Grace happy, but that didn't mean I enjoyed her presence in the least. Her height contributed to that fact. The woman definitely made one think they should get on their knees & pray while she spoke, something I was not too keen on doing.

I pushed myself to my feet & made my way to my bedroom to get ready for some sort of sleep. I stripped off my blue shirt & black trousers before slipping on a light blue nightgown. I jumped when I heard a knock at my door & prayed silently that it wasn't Sofia. I slipped my robe on & walked carefully to the door trying to avoid making any sort of noise.

Taking a look through the peep hole, I was thankful it wasn't Sofia Lamb, but not too relieved when I noticed it was Augustus Sinclair. The man never learned!

I opened the door & pulled him inside giving him the glare. "I know! I know! I heard your speech before," He said said with his hands raised in a surrender.

"So, why are you here?" I asked. "You didn't send any surprises in the mail."

"I know. I came because somethin' is botherin' you & I want to know what is botherin' my favorite asset."

My eyebrow raised at the statement. I shook my head & gestured to my couch for him to sit. "Want something to drink?" I asked.

He took a seat on the couch & said, "None. I asked you a question, Jamie."

I sighed & sat down on the couch beside him. "Fine. I can't seem to get what you called the people of Pauper's Drop off my mind. Are we just slobs to you?"

Sinclair groaned & smacked his forehead. "I curse my wording now. Jamie, I am so sorry. I didn't mean to say it, it just came out."

"But is that what you really think of us? Of me?"

Sinclair placed his hands on my shoulders & turned me to face him. "Jamie, I didn't mean a single word I said. If it wasn't for the Drop, I wouldn't have found you. If wouldn't have found you, my business wouldn't be doin' as well as it is." He nudged my chin with his finger. "I'm sorry, Jamie. Would you find it in your heart to forgive me?"

I looked away & leaned back against the couch. "There's something more, isn't there?"

It was now or never. I didn't have a problem with Miss Adler, but I had a problem with Sinclair's attention to her. "I also have a problem with you sending me to spy on one woman. A woman that you talk to enough on your own. Hell, you went to Ryan Amusements with her."

A sparkle made its way into his emerald green eyes. Sinclair let out a laugh & exclaimed, "Jealousy! That's what's been botherin' you?"

I flinched away from him. "I never said it was jealousy!"

"But you're implyin' it. Darlin', what are you jealous of? Miss Camille is just a friend who needs a shoulder to cry on about Fontaine."

"Then why are you having me watch her?"

Sinclair smiled & reclined back against the couch. "Because she's someone to watch. She has access to all of Fontaine's secrets & business deals. All it'll take is one moment to get her to work for me & with it, Fontaine's secrets. Any moment of weakness on her part & gives me another foothold in her life."

"And you want me to figure out those exact moments."

"Exactly. That's the smart Hawkeye I know." He wrapped his arm around my shoulders & pulled me into a sort of comforting hug. "Glad to know that you do have a heart in there. Am I forgiven?"

I rolled my eyes before nodding. He drew me in for a tight squeeze; he smelled like expensive cologne & I didn't find the smell at all repulsive. It was spicy, but sweet & there was something distinctly Sinclair mixed in that made it pleasant.

"Why don't you take the day off tomorrow. You've been workin' hard for 2 years now. I think a break is deserved," He suggested, to which I nodded again.

He stood & took his leave, bidding me a good night.

Sleep came a lot easier then.

I awoke the next morning & started my morning routine: shower, dressed comfortably in a white work shirt again with my dark brown trousers, breakfast, brush teeth & pulled my dark hair into a low ponytail. Sinclair didn't have any jobs for me today which was welcomed, but also despised since I had no idea what to do with myself now.

Spending several hours cleaning the apartment top to bottom did little to appease the boredom that clamped down on my mind. Reading one of the books from the bookshelf did not hold my attention for long either. Sinclair gave me the day off, but I was about to drive myself crazy with think of something to do. Rapture Television was never good so the tele was out of the question. There seemed to be only one place I could sit for long periods of time without feeling at all bored.

I locked the apartment door behind me & made my way to the train station.

The King Pawn sign did its magic as I settled into my spot. Strange how this place became a comfort when it used to be the only place that I could find that if I fell asleep by accident I wouldn't find a shiv in my belly when I woke up... If I woke up at all. It seemed to be the only place I can even stop & smell the roses as the phrase goes. Between Sinclair & Miss Adler, I couldn't get a moment to rest; it felt like forever since I just sat down.

My smile dropped when I noticed Sullivan & a few of his boys stalk around below.

Lord knows what he was up to now. I jumped down & followed him; for Sullivan to be in Pauper's Drop did not bode well for me. He disappeared into a run down apartment complex with his boys following close behind him.

They emerged a few minutes later dragging a young boy named Timmy Hoster with them as he kicked & screamed for them to release him. "Now the eggs are in the scramble," Sullivan said into an Accu-Vox. "We picked up Timmy H right after midnight. Either Ryan will be takin' down Fontaine or Fontaine will be takin' down Ryan. We'll be... _interviewing_ poor Timmy near Fontaine Fisheries. If you're up for entertainment, the code is 5380."

They were starting to truly crack down on Fontaine & his smugglers. Figured Ryan would go after Fontaine. The case against Lamb was coming to a close from what Poole was reporting in, so that meant he was going after bigger fish to fry.

Lamb's days were numbered


	11. Rapture Mother

Dymond: Another chapter! Hoorah! It's a mad dash to the finish line with a lot of sleepless nights. It's my own fault, but when I get working on something I can't stop until I finish it; chapters including.

I spazzed when I saw Camille go all Fontaine on Stanley Poole about Hawkeye in CaliforniaStop's The Scars of Utopia. Never had I been so proud of Camille aside from her standing up to Fontaine in chapter 11. Anyways, all is forgiven mostly between Hawkeye & Sinclair so life continues on as always with Hawkeye being a little spy & Sinclair being... well... Sinclair.

Edit: Fixed a few spelling mistakes. Still probably missed a few but I don't care.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~(Rapture!)

_1956_

Lamb was taken down & taken down hard.

Stanley Poole had pulled through with enough evidence to take her out & Sinclair sent in security. Her office was torn apart & torn down leaving nothing behind of Lamb.

But Lamb went without a fuss. There was no last stand amongst her little flock, no screaming indignities at the arresting officers, no claims of innocence. She allowed the officers to walk into her office to which she calmly rose to her feet & allowed them to put her hands behind her back. She left her office with her head held high, only nodding to a few of her followers who seemed to be crying at her departure. Her movements like that of a messiah, which was how these people saw her.

Because she knew that Ryan's boys were coming for her. And she prepared for it, prepared her followers mentally for it so that they wouldn't try & gut security when they arrived on scene. She even prepared her daughter Eleanor Lamb. Eleanor was now being taken care of by Grace Holloway which made going to visit her difficult. I avoided it as much as I could since Eleanor called me a 'dog-eater' the first time we met.

She was a charming, smart little girl regardless of our first meeting. Way too smart for someone her age, but I figured it had something to do with Lamb's isolation of the child. I knew she had escaped a few times to see some of the other kids behind her mother's back, which resulted in a few upgraded security systems to keep her in, but that smart little girl figured out how to get past them only messing up the first time she tried it all at the age of 6. And then her mother was arrested, couldn't imagine what that'd be like for a young girl like her.

Camille Adler, though, was a real hoot. She gone to Pauper's Drop to Lamb's no-longer-there office & stared shocked at the barricaded door. When she growled under her breath _Sinclair_, I was in the vents quick heading to Sinclair's office.

I dropped through & informed before Sinclair could get out a greeting, "Miss Camille is coming up here to tear you a new ass hole. Just thought I'd let you know to prepare you mentally."

Sinclair gave me a look of confusion. "And why might she be doing that?" He questioned, tapping his cigarette on his ash tray.

"You know Camille's gone to see Lamb. And now Lamb's gone. She's eavesdropped on your conversation with Ryan about Lamb & has obviously connected you two going to the Limbo Room to spying on Lamb. Do the math, Augustus." I crossed my arms & smirked. "If I do the math correctly, she's already hit the lobby & Fred is out cold so she got past him easily."

Sinclair nodded & glanced at the clock. "I guess I'm going to have company. You know the drill, Hawkeye."

"Out of sight, out of mind. Need me to listen in?"

"Nah, I think I got this. Besides, you have to find Rupert Grinchaw. He's been skipping out on payments to my legal firm & disappearing into Pauper's Drop." I nodded & jumped up into the vent just as Camille opened the door without knocking. A little too close there.

Rupert Grinchaw was a regular client at the Pink Pearl if my info was correct, so now it was just a matter of catching him when he went in. The Pink Pearl smelled of heavy perfume to cover up the stench of poor hygiene that was eye-watering at most times. Despite the pretty foyer with a support beam wrapped in vines & covered in flowers, it still wasn't the most kept place in the world. It was either this place or Eve's Garden for expensive girls that no one could afford. The Pink Pearl also seemed to be a middle ground since Fontaine had a small prostitution ring operating out of Neptune's Bounty which was his source for information. Don't want to fuck with Fontaine? Don't fuck the girls.

Sinclair had better be damn grateful that I worked how I did since the betties in that ring could barely remember the Johns' names half the time.

Rupert arrived almost on schedule & nodded his head to the man running the front desk. Rupert slapped a small wad of bills on the counter & smiled a yellowed, toothy grin. "Here for Donovan again?" The man asked taking Rupert's money & counting it out.

Donovan? If he meant Dusky Donovan...

Rupert grinned bigger. "Yeah, ol' Dusky's the best lay here. See ya, Georgie!" He skipped off toward the stairs.

Dusky Donovan. Guess I now knew my mother was alive still. I didn't care to know before since she was basically dead to me, but not I was curious to see how my mother turned out after not seeing her in years.

I crawled further into the vents & dropped down on a walkway leading to the bulk of the rooms. It was loud with the sounds of talking, screaming, moaning & calls of pleasure that almost made me sick. Almost. Rupert passed by me & entered a room with a loud, "Greetings, Dusky!" He closed the door behind him. I gripped the door handle & gave it a twist, but discovered it was locked. Not to keen on seeing my mother have sex with Rupert, I left for a few hours, distracting myself with a meal in the Mermaid Lounge.

The burger tasted like cardboard, but then again I was pretty sure McDonagh had killed pretty much every burger for me in Rapture. I almost felt like I was cheating on him with eating another man's burger, but digressed since I didn't want to go far from the Pearl. Although, if McDonagh heard me say that I'm sure it'd bring a smile to his otherwise gloomy demeanor after dealing with Ryan.

A quick shake down of Rupert later once he left the Pearl, I entered the Pearl again ignoring the man at the desk who probably thought I was a girl looking for work. I could never drop myself down to these women's level of desperate. Even though I was starving, I still had standards; standards that got me the attention of Augustus Sinclair, esquire.

The room I saw Rupert enter still had the lights on, meaning Dusky was still inside. I opened the door & found her pulling her clothes back on & fixing the purple sheets & blankets on the bed. She was getting the room ready for the next customer. The room itself held a bed obviously, a table with a record player sitting on it crooning out the Andrew Sisters, & a dresser not far from the edge of the bed containing any clothes Dusky might change in to for the Johns' various kinks. The walls were pink. The Pink Pearl with pink walls; how original.

"Never thought I'd see you like this," I snorted making her spin around.

Her cheeks were more sullen than I had remembered, bringing her boney cheek bones out more. Her once neat brown wavy hair was flat & contained streaks of gray that was pathetically covered up by hair dye. Her eyebrows were overly plucked & her lips help a shade of ugly red from her lipstick. She looked more like a skeleton that a person.

She sneered at me & said, "You're not my next John! Who are you?"

I shook my head. This woman didn't even recognize me even though I recognized her despite the obvious changes in her physique. "Forget the face or your own daughter?" I questioned bluntly.

Dusky staggered back from me like I had punched her. "You're... You're still alive?" She questioned staring me down.

"Yep. Overheard your little Rupert mention you. I thought to myself, _no way it could be her. My mother's still kicking after all these years?_ And much to my surprise, here you are: still spreading your legs for anyone who'll pay." One could say I was being harsh to her, but I felt entitled when someone like her just abandons her child to fuck men for a living.

I noticed the track marks running up & down her arms: she was a drug addict. Cocaine more than likely since her nose was raw & red.

"Don't you judge _me_," She hissed, pointing a boney finger in my face. "I gave birth to you, brat. I am your mother!"

"Yep. A mother who then abandons her child, leaving her to starve to death without so much as a goodbye. Left me to wander the streets looking for my next bite to eat."

"I had to work-"

"Work? You never came home. And when you did you were passed out drunk. 12 years old & having to drag your unconscious mother out of the hallway & to the couch. Then get smacked around when I tell you we're out of aspirin for your hangover. Mother of the year right there!"

"I made you who you are today!" Dusky argued taking a threatening step towards me.

I stepped right back. "Made me who I am? No, mother, I made myself who I am. If anything, Grace made me who I am today. She took care of me when you weren't there. I don't even know why I came here." I threw my hands up & moved to the door. "What child would want to see their whore of a mother anyways?"

She grabbed my arm, spun me around & slapped me right across the face. It didn't hurt in the slightest. It was like a pat on the cheek compared to the injuries I've dealt with. "Goodbye, mother. Hope you enjoy your stay in Rapture. I have work to do. _Real_ work," I growled slamming the door in her face.

Once I was out in Siren Alley again I walked calmly to a nearby couch before I sunk down on it & choked back a sob.

I may not have liked her, but she was still my mother & it greatly tore me in half to see her like that: a whore who would sleep with the likes of people like Rupert Grinchaw just for a quick buck for drugs & ADAM. I couldn't tell if she was needling, since Daniel Wales had a strict rule that his girls couldn't splice. Not like the women didn't have any more problems with them to add ADAM addiction to it. He did it himself of course, but what's good for the gander, gets the goose thrown off the Drop.

I don't necessarily remember a happy time with my mother since most of it was spent bitching about my father who left to fight in World War II & was killed in action during a bombing raid Germany had done on England where we lived. She blamed that he left because he didn't want to deal with a child like me, but I already knew he left because he was patriotic & wanted do his part to end the war which made him a bloody hero in my book. He had joined up right after the bombings at Pearl Harbor, but had already been itching to join up when he lost contact with his grandparents & heard about the death camps. My father was jewish, my mother wasn't.

If I had still lived with my mother's grandparents, I probably would still have the British accent, but years of living in Rapture had more or less covered it up. It mostly came out when I was seething mad, but even then it wasn't very noticeable.

I missed my father, even though I can't remember his face since I was young when he left to fight in the war.

I let out a shaky breath & got to my feet again. I had to report back to Sinclair.

When I dropped into Sinclair's office, Camille was long gone & he was making himself busy by sorting through various paperwork for the Sinclair Solutions. "Rupert's going to pay his fees now," I said leaning against his desk.

Sinclair looked up & pointed out, "You took longer than I thought you would. What happened?"

I sighed & turned my back to him. "I saw my mother."

"Your mother?"

"Yeah. At the Pink Pearl. Rupert was a customer of hers."

Sinclair stood up from his desk. He came around & leaned against the desk next to me, a comforting hand on my shoulder. "That couldn't have been easy."

"It was easy walking in. Not easy watching her try & defend herself. Try & give meaning to the things she's done."

"So, there wasn't any touchin' family reunion?"

I shook my head. "No there wasn't any touching family reunion. More along the lines of a mexican standoff. But who cares? She's gone her self-destructive way & I'm here."

Sinclair gave me a smile & patted my shoulder.

That meeting with my mother made me realize what exactly I had: I had Grace's motherly affection, I had a job with Sinclair who was turning into a weird form of a friend. A friend... Something I thought I'd never have. Huh, I guess Sinclair has become a friend over the years I've known him, despite everything. With Lamb out of the way, I no longer had to deal with Stanley Poole which I was thankful for: the man smelled horribly of body odor half the time & reminded me of a rat I'd encounter in the air ducts.

As long as he kept his mouth shut about Sinclair or about me, I wouldn't have to associate myself with him for a long time.


	12. Rapture Treasure

Dymond: Finally almost catching up. I've been pounding these chapters out like mad & will hopefully slow down a little when I catch up to CaliforniaStop so we may both work officially together on this. My mac is acting a little funky, but I'll get it fixed soon. Just have to open him up: pretty sure there's a few wires I can cross to make it hurt so that he behaves. (BTW: I named my laptop Kadaj since he's silver like his hair, but me & Kadaj constantly get into fights. He normally works after I fuck around with his main processors. Dymond the Author: Master of Making Macbook Pros Hurt)

Onwards then, I shall not deny you the pleasure!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~(Rapture!)

_1957_

Fontaine's Home for the Poor; that was the newest thing in Rapture. Along with Dr. Suchong's Free Clinic, trading blood for money it would seem. Reality: It was a damn recruitment line. Fontaine gives them a blanket & a bowl of soup & they give him their lives. Who needs an army when Fontaine had his poor house? Those poor people. They came down here thinking they were going to be Captains of Industry, but putting them to work on building Rapture, it filled up without warning with the scientific & artistic prodigies of the modern age & soon men like Sinclair & Fontaine prayed on them; giving them a few luxuries to lure them in to their businesses. The only differences between Sinclair & Fontaine was the use of a smile & how they went about luring them in. Fontaine was smart with giving them food. Sinclair was smart for giving them affordable housing, banking in the rest on the alcohol & plasmids that his companies made.

Guns also sprang up more & more around Rapture along with a few of Fontaine's new Power to the People weapon upgrades stations that would give the weapons upgrades like a higher ammunition capacity or a faster discharge resulting in more damage. Like shotguns need any more damage upgrades; they could blow a small person in half at point blank range. I almost felt that bite, but the shotgun the splicer was carrying jammed & I was able to escape. It wasn't just shotguns: revolvers, submachine guns, crossbows, grenade launchers, the works! As if Rapture wasn't dangerous enough! I was almost contemplating getting myself a few plasmids, incase of emergency like Electrobolt, butt the threat of ADAM addiction was too great. I didn't want to end up like those Splicers that had sprung up more than before. And that weighed more than just a little more protection against them.

Sinclair found it to be amusing nonetheless, but installed the new genetic locks that had sprung up in Rapture for a little extra security. I still didn't know how he talked me into agreeing to it as well, but before long I was seated in front of Gil Alexander, paid to keep quiet about little old me. He took a blood sample from a prick to my finger & sent it to the labs to be put into code for Sinclair's security system.

Sinclair had convinced me as well to snoop around the Fat Cat Lounge during a small party going on for so-and-so's birthday. I knew Miss Adler was going to be there since it was her 2 year anniversary for working with Fontaine & he was celebrating his grand opening of the Power to the People stations around Rapture. But whatever his reasons, I was dressed in a simple black cocktail dress that Sinclair had recently purchased for me, concealer covering up the little scars on my face, sipping a glass of champagne that I had no idea how to pronounce the name to. I just pointed to the lady next to me & said, "I'll have what she's having." Maybe I should take a little time & figure out the names of the alcohol & mixers served around Rapture.; I seem to be getting more & more involved with the nightclub scene.

Again, I blamed Sinclair.

Diane McClintock & Andrew Ryan were there as well, Diane clinging hopelessly to Andrew's sleeve while he looked about as entertained as watching the grass grow. A new diamond ring was on her finger, meaning Ryan had more or less proposed to Diane, but to me it seemed more out of want to shut the woman up than out of love or want to spend the rest of every waking moment with the woman. With someone like Jasmine Jolene in the mix, I almost pitied Diane. Compared to Jasmine Jolene, Diane was plain as a pole. She had her curly blonde hair wrapped up in a bun for the party, her eyebrows cleanly waxed & plucked to perfection & her lips were a perfect shade of red, but it did little to attract Ryan's attention long enough to even fake a look of admiration. Jasmine Jolene was exotic, young & attractive, downright seductive.

I noticed Miss Adler dance with a few of Fontaine's executors. She looked like she was having fun, laughing & smiling at whoever she was dancing, but then again maybe she had snorted a line of coke to get her this way; the more likely scenario. I never judged her for it: working for Fontaine probably was a viable excuse to snort coke. I probably would be too if I worked with the Boogyman. I got the lesser of two evils, I guess, working with Sinclair, but it wasn't much better. Conditions were probably better, but I digress: I knew how Fontaine was treating her now after she grew a pair of balls & stood up to him for treating her like nothing.

The song ended & she brushed past a few of the executors & disappeared into the private room Fontaine had booked out for the evening.

Fontaine appeared in my line of sight with a woman in a glittering dress on his arm & I almost grinned in delight. It was obvious Adler had a little office infatuation with Fontaine & it displeased her to see him with other women, but I also knew she'd do little to voice her annoyance. Adler appeared in the doorway almost on cue & weaved her way toward the exit. She asked the woman at the coat check for her jacket & waited patiently for her to return.

Sullivan, the rat bastard, pushed his way through the crowd toward Adler & I almost groaned. If shit hit the fan, I knew exactly what Sinclair would expect me to do: Get Adler out with little to no damage. Please don't do anything stupid, Adler. "Miss Adler?" He asked, his voice loud to compensate for the music.

"Yes," She replied, eying him carefully with occasional glances over his shoulder to see if anyone was spying on them. Wrong direction, but I give her points for looking.

"My name's Sullivan-"

"I know who you are."

He chuckled at the bite in her tone, smoothing his receding hairline back. "Then you know why I'm talking to you."

"I have an idea. Although, I don't know what you expect me to do."

"You're the closest person we have to Frank Fontaine right now. Everybody else, well they're either to scared to talk or..."

"Or they're dead." Points for bluntness. Deduction for using the word 'dead'.

"Or that," Sullivan agreed. He waved her in closer & spoke lower, making it near impossible to hear. I couldn't move from my position or I'd give myself away to Miss Adler who would suspect something or she'd think I'm Fontaine's employee, which either case I did not want to happen.

"I don't enjoy having my time wasted, Mr. Sullivan," Camille snapped. The sense of panic came out more than impatience which I didn't blame her for: Fontaine was not the forgiving type of person & to discover his secretary talking with Ryan's Head of Security did not bode well for her.

"I'll give it to you straight then: we need something on Fontaine. Something. _Anything_. Hard evidence that'll have him put away. We know he's up to nefarious things but we're havin' a had time pinnin' him down. He always got his hands clean, y'know?" He pulled a business card out of his pocket & handed it to her. "Please. Speak up. You could help a _lot_ of people."

I shook my head, realizing that Camille would never turn against Fontaine even if Sullivan asked nicely & looked like Adonis. I kicked off the wall & made my way over to the bar to drop off my half-empty glass of champagne. It was almost 1 in the morning & I wanted to sleep. I left shortly after Fontaine & Camille did with Fontaine's bodyguards in tow.

I unlocked my door to my apartment & shut it behind me, quickly locking it once again. I sat comfortably on the bed & kicked off my heels, rubbing my aching feet as they begged for freedom from the little monstrosities. My feet were not built for heels, that I was adamant about, but Sinclair insisted I had to wear them in order to blend in with the upper class. As much as he was right, I still hated the little buggers.

I was in bed in 10 minutes flat, enjoying a dreamless sleep before I had to get up in 5 hours to Sinclair's beck & call.

~~~~(Rapture!)

My hand slammed on my alarm as it shrilled painfully in my ear. Why I had the blasted thing, I'll never know. Dragging myself out of bed, I got ready to head to Sinclair's office for another list of people to watch. I didn't _have _to get up as early as I did, but it felt routine since I was almost always gone from the Limbo Room before opening or else I'd have to face Greg the security guard. Did that once & I never wanted to do that ever again.

I slowed my walk as I gazed at the newest bodies dancing the the hangman's jig up on the gallows, each with a piece of wood strung around their neck that read "PARASITE". Must've happened last night since I didn't hear a damn thing. I knew Ryan was nuts, but for stringing people up for running contraband? That was just insane. It was just a bit of contraband! Lock them up for god's sake, but to hang them to try & put a lid on Fontaine's smuggling... I shivered as a weasel of a man jumped up on the platforms & cut them down, throwing them into a wheelbarrow to be taken to Medical & cremated.

I'd imagine Fontaine was getting a little short of staff since his men were getting arrested, swiftly convicted & had one of those nooses around their necks before they could scream for help.

Ryan was preparing for something big, I knew it, but the question was: _What was he going to do?_

I shivered again & folded my arms over my chest. I hoped I'd never end up on those & once again I was thankful that Sinclair had a contract with Ryan, meaning he couldn't touch me if he ever found out about me.

Sinclair was already in his office with his hand clasped desperately around a cup of coffee/tar that his secretary had made up for him. He offered me a sip, but I declined. "How was the party last night?" He asked picking up the newspaper that was delivered.

"Boring. But Sullivan is cracking down on Fontaine."

"What makes you say that?"

I smiled, "He tried interviewing your Miss Adler."

The newspaper was lowered. "What did he say?"

I waved a hand & said, "He didn't interrogate her like Timmy H. Just asked if she would give up information about his boss & offered protection from Fontaine's wrath. Like that'd do much."

"And what did she do?"

"Politely told him to fuck off, in summary." He belted a laugh & folded his newspaper whilst laughing.

"That's my girl!"

I crossed my arms. "Your 'girl'?" I quoted a little angry.

He laughed again & said, "Don't take it personally, Hawkeye. You got a special little place that no one can fill."

"I'm not taking it personally. I just find it odd how you let a girl working for Fontaine into your list of girls."

He shook his head & pulled out a sheet of paper from his desk. "Recognize this?" He asked, handing it to me.

I took it from him & glanced it over. A faceless, blonde man dressed in a white shirt, dark suspenders, & dark trousers, with his hands clenched in fists & resting on his hips stared back at her. Beneath the drawing, in capitalized letters was the phrase: WHO IS ATLAS?

I shrugged. "I've seen these around Pauper's Drop & everywhere else in Rapture. Plastered everywhere. They seem to have sprung up overnight."

"Even past your ever careful gaze?"

I rolled my eyes, "Just because you thought of the little moniker for me doesn't mean I have eyes on everything. They were probably put up while I was distracted by you jawing away about something or another."

He folded his fingers together, his eyebrows knitted together. "Things are about to get interestin' 'round here. I can feel it."

I chuckled sarcastically. "You can feel it, or you're going to send me to figure it out. 'Cause I can tell you now, I have no idea who Atlas is. I've already looked in to it. Atlas is obviously an alias, like Hawkeye is to me. And if this Atlas character is going up against Ryan, then he knows how to hide."

"You sound almost in awe of Atlas there, sport."

"I can appreciate someone who knows how to disappear, but by hiding in plain sight. I can find those who deliberately try to hide, but to hide in plain sight, well that just makes the game more fun. Gotta be with the gallows sitting outside my apartment."

Sinclair hummed in distaste. "I heard about Andy Ryan's little set up. Never thought he'd have the guts to do it, but then again Andy's goin' a little bonkers. Do you want to be moved out of Artemis Suites?"

It was a tempting offer, but I had to remain where I was. "No. As I said, I'd get lynched if I moved to Olympus Heights without so much as an explanation. And telling people I'm sleeping with someone rich wouldn't help."

"There was a reference to Jolene in there," Sinclair grinned leaning back in his seat. "But back to business. I don't have anything for ya today other than checkin' on our Miss Adler. Then tonight I'm thinkin' a trip to Arcadia would do us good."

"Arcadia? Augustus, if I didn't know any better I'd say you were trying to woo me."

He laughed & shooed me away.

I laid in the ducts once again above Fontaine's desk this time, since Fontaine had called Camille in for something or another. Probably discussing Sullivan's tailing of her. The man needed to get lessons on being subtle, but then again not everyone was like me. I was damn good at what I did. It was close to the end of the working day, so it was more than likely another briefing about the situation.

My eyebrows knitted together when I noticed Fontaine reach into his desk & pulled out several clips of cash, dumping them on the desk. "There's your wages paid up until the end of the year," He informed, his cigar rolling between his fingers. "And an little extra. A bonus."

She looked the money then back at Fontaine a little confused. Join the club. "I... Thank you?"

"Take it." I nearly flinched at how cold it was. "And get the fuck out of here." Everything screeched to a stop. Did I just hear what I thought I just heard?

"B-Beg your pardon?" Camille asked. She was trying to make sense of what he just said as well.

"Did I stutter? I said take the money & get the _fuck outta here_. You have ten minutes to pack up your shit & _leave._"

"Leave? Am I being transferred?" I couldn't quite pinpoint the emotion in her voice, but I could tell she was emotionally upset about this who thing.

"No. I want you _gone _from this _building_."

The waterworks were about to flow & I had to look away for a moment to avoid groaning in annoyance. Was this girl so enamored with Fontaine that she couldn't piece together that she was fired? I thought she was smart. "But... But I don't understand! I don't _understand_, Mr. Fontaine!"

"What, I gotta answer to you now? You're a _secretary_, kid. You type up letters & get me coffee. I don't gotta explain _anythin'_ to you. Got it?"

Tears poured down her face, her cheeks & eyes turning red. "But Mr. Fontaine - What did I _do_?!"

Fontaine stabbed at his desk with his finger. "Let me make myself clearer, Cam," He said firmly. "Either you get outta here in ten minutes, on your _own_, or I get my guys to _take_ you out. And I can promise they won't be gentle. You're _done_. You're _fired._" There it was.

But something seemed strange... He called her 'Cam' while in the process of firing her. I had seen Sinclair fire a few people before, but never on a first name basis, never on a nickname basis either. He would always address them as Mr., Miss, or Mrs. insert-last-name-here. Fontaine called her Cam...

"F-fired," she echoed in disbelief. "No, I don't understand – you can't just fire me, I haven't done anything!"

"_No_?" he demanded, his voice dripping with venom. He was resorting back to the Fontaine Poisonous Cobra Charm that punched babies & kicked puppies if it meant he remained in control & made money. "How's about, I don't wanna secretary who's on Sullivan's radar? How's about, I don't think I can trust ya anymore, after you went behind my back and got cozy with Sinclair? Ryan's got a Great Chain – well, you're a weak link in _my _chain, Cam, and I'm gettin' rid of ya, one way or another. How's _that_ for an explanation? Sufficient enough?" Valid points.

"You don't trust me?" she asked weakly.

"Not after seeing ya chattin' up the competition. If you're friendly with a selfish prick like Sinclair – after I _deliberately_ told you to have nothin' to do with him – what'll it be like when Sullivan has you in a locked room?" He snorted distastefully. "You'll sing like a bird, I know it, and that's a liability I don't wanna have to think about." He waved a hand dismissively. "Now, do I gotta repeat myself _again_? Get out. Pack up your desk, and _go_. Take the money with ya. I owe it to you, at least."

She stormed from the office after a final, "As you wish, Mr. Fontaine."

I took my chance to leave & inform Sinclair of the recent development. I'm sure he'd be bouncing for joy that his little Camille was now up for grabs. Whether or not Fontaine liked it, Sinclair had his eye on Miss Camille for years & now due to Fontaine's own stupidity, Sinclair was going to get her.

What surprised me, though, was he didn't just shoot her on the spot. I knew he had a gun in the bottom drawer of his desk. Camille Adler knew everything about him aside from Jolene's baby spawn he had purchased. Letting her just walk out wasn't Fontaine's style; then again everything about him firing Camille was completely out of character for him. But another man's trash is another man's treasure & Sinclair was going to strike a jackpot if I had anything to do with it


	13. Rapture Art

Dymond: HAH! Almost caught up! YES! *Does the happy dance* Never have I felt more accomplished before, but this -this right here- is amazing! I never thought my fingers would fly across my keyboard as much as they do now! And now we take a peek into how protective Hawkeye is becoming of Sinclair, muahahaha. I torment her so much.

Onward, my pretties!

Edit: Had to fix some mistakes & add to it. Too OCD to let it sit.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~(Rapture)

I had waited a few days after the termination to see if she would go crawling back begging for her job again to make sure Fontaine didn't take her back & find out Sinclair had offered her a job. Camille had drafted several letters to her ex-boss, but scrapped most of them. She spent most of her time in her apartment in bed, smoking cigarette after cigarette & drinking whatever alcohol she could find in her cabinets. It was almost pathetic, but with her being so loyal to Fontaine, I realized that it would have hit her hard.

Sinclair's grin couldn't have gotten any wider when I told him the news. "You're sure?"

"As sure as I am of your love of red velvet cake. Right now she's shut herself away in her apartment with her cat trying to write letters to convince Fontaine to give her her job back. Go work your magic, Augustus." He smiled & stood up from his desk.

"All right. Meet me at Sander Cohen's gallery for that party I mentioned." He pulled out a ticket & handed it to me. It was to Cohen's newest gallery opening: food, fun, drinks, music, the works. "Dress your best."

He surprised me by giving me an appreciative peck on the forehead as he passed, leaving me in a state of dumbstruck awe. The door clicked shut behind me & my hand immediately flew to my forehead where his lips had met. A shaky breath escaped me as I shook my head. No time to act like a awestruck teenage girl. I was 23 for Christ's sake. I jumped up into the vent & made my way to my apartment to get ready for the evening.

Even though I wasn't Sinclair's date, I knew he wanted me to scope the crowd like always.

I stripped off my work clothes & pulled out the crimson dress from that night at the Kashmir. A smile made it's way across my mouth as I lightly spread it out over the bed. I could still feel Sinclair's hand on my waist, his breath on my ear asking me for my name. Slipping the dress over my head, I smoothed it out once it settled near perfect along my thin figure. My hair was braided again just as that night, but this time I took the liberty of adding a decorative hairpin with the shape of a red rose on it. Applying a bit of makeup, I picked up a handbag & left, locking my apartment behind me.

I rode alone over to Fort Frolic, but enjoyed the silence before I was flooded with a room full of people & secrets to dissect. The most quiet anyone could have with a good view of the city to boot; the sparkling towers, the glowing tunnels that people walked along, the schools of colorful fish swimming past without a care in the world the beautiful coral reefs that surrounded the entire city. Rapture may have it's faults, but it was truly a beautiful place when one just sat down & smelled the roses.

I had beaten Sinclair to Fort Frolic since I didn't spot him near the doors.

As if on cue, a bathysphere arrived & Sinclair with Camille holding on to the crook of his arm stepped out, Camille looked like she was having second thoughts.

Before long, I was standing in Poseidon Plaza, entering the Sinclair Spirits for a drink to blend in more. Once again pointing to the woman next to me & asking for whatever she was drinking, I was handed a flute of champagne & sent on my way so that the bartender could attend to other customers. It was loud with enough gossip to sink a cruiser drifting around. It was a bit difficult to pick apart fact from fiction, but I figured it I didn't hear the words, "Did you hear...?" that it meant that the information was as good as it was going to get.

Cohen's Collections: that was what the gallery was being called now. Mostly bare with the exception of a few things covered in purple drapes. Cohen himself was standing on a stage with his apprentices behind him, each looking more annoyed than the other. Kyle Fitzpatrick was easy to spot with his ginger hair & boyish charm to him. He was the youngest of the group. Hector was next to him, already looking half in the bag with his eye switching between a flute of champagne from a waiter in a sleek uniform & Kyle himself. There was a small rumor that those two were involved romantically, but again rumors would be rumors (but I believed it). Next to Hector was Martin Finnegan. Finnegan was a grumpy sod who was another gifted sculptor training under Cohen. And finally there was Silas Cobb, the owner of Rapture Records who looked about as happy as a shark whose food escape.

Sinclair made his appearance beside me without Camille in sight. We didn't look each other in the eye at all with the exception of a few noncommittal glances, acting like we were just discussing something of unimportance. "Powder room?" I questioned & he nodded. "How's she enjoying the event?"

"About as much as one can expect. She's still scared Fontaine will show up."

"Fontaine? Show up here? The only way that man is coming here is if someone twists his arm."

"Or he's with Miss Camille. Anything I should know?"

"Cohen's more talkative tonight. You should get him talking to Camille, butter her up. Also, I smell something strong like paper with a lot of industrial glue, paint & plaster. Steinman's on a rampage about his aesthetics, so avoid him. He's giving everyone the creeps."

Sinclair nodded & made his way over to Cohen, striking up a conversation with him right before Camille reentered the room. She blushed when Cohen had addressed her & conversed with her briefly before looping his arm around Finnegan's waist & leading him away to get ready for the grand reveal.

I nearly jumped when someone tapped me on the shoulder. Steinman gave a seemingly charming smile. "Miss Hawkeye, what a pleasure to find you here. I didn't know you were someone of importance to be here."

"My reasons are my own for being here, Steinman."

He hummed at the answer before once again staring at my nose. "You know, my offer is still on the table for a quick procedure to make your nose perfect. What excuse do you have not to be beautiful? With ADAM, that is possible." A business card was between his fingers quickly. I took it & waited until he left me well enough alone to crush it & throw it to the ground.

"Mesdames et messieurs," Cohen called happily, his voice echoing across the room, "Welcome to the latest incarnation of Cohen's Collection! I hope you have all enjoyed the music, the flowing champagne, the heaving forest of beautiful bodies, & the suspense as you milled around, wondering what the evening would bring!"

There was a round of applause that I did not join in on. Cohen creeped me right the fuck out with his heavy stage makeup that looked more like a child's drawing than makeup. He continued on, "I must say that I owe an enormous debt of gratitude to Dr. Steinman, who provided invaluable services to me during the creation of my latest artwork, and who provided me with his own brand of inspiration." Steinman gave a small wave when the spotlight was dropped on him. Steinman working with Cohen on an art project? This could not turn out well in the least...

"And so, without further ado…" Cohen clapped his hands & the curtains raised, revealing his little project behind the zealous curtains. "I present to you, the crowning glory of my artistic career!"

Hidden beneath the purple drapes were white plastered figures, life-sized & styled in various poses. There was a trio of ballerinas; at an old baby grand sat a plaster-figure of a pianist, his delicate fingers poised over the keys reminding me a little of Kyle when he played. There were a few others with masks covering their faces. They seemed way to realistic to be just sculptures... It wasn't until I examined them more closely, that I spotted a little speck of red soaking out under the plaster. Shit... Blood. Those were _people_ under the plaster!

Sinclair & Camille were close to the front, not noticing what I could see with the 'statues', but I heard Camille mention something about the statues being disturbing. If only she knew the truth. It was moments like that I cursed my power of observation.

Cohen spread his arms over his figures presenting them in a manner only he could pull off. "My inspiration for this latest collection comes from a long meditation on that impossible question, 'Does life imitate art, or does art imitate life?' – & I have concluded that…" He paused dramatically. "Life IS art. Oh yes, there are plays & musicals & operas, moving artforms, but they are so transient, so fleeting! In only a moment, that perfect tableau is gone, replaced by another. I seek to capture those moments of beauteous living art, to capture them forever, so that we might enjoy them as we enjoy paintings, as objects to be admired for years to come. My latest collection is my attempt to capture the beauty of living art as my legacy…" Applause from the crowd. "My dear Dr. Steinman was instrumental in the more – ahem – anatomical aspects of the figures. Without him, I would only have captured imperfect life as art. Now, though, it is complete! I will not stop with these, my first attempts. No, my muse has urged me to focus my energies on the tableaux vivants as my newest outlet, & my muse must not be disappointed."

I dropped my empty champagne flute on a waiter's tray & left the area, not wanting to be near the bodies forever trapped inside the plaster models. I would inform Sinclair later, but for now I was going to be sick if I hung around for too long. I had seen some pretty horrific things in the years I lived in Rapture, but I can't think of one thing that topped what Cohen was calling _art._ I leaned against the wall to try & settle my churning stomach. I had noted the shortage of staff around Fort Frolic & a few of Cohen's fans had mysteriously vanished, but I assumed that they might've been locked up in Persephone for annoying the flamboyant artist. But for him to turn them into plaster statues? That was just madness.

I noticed Kyle rush out of the back door of the room with Hector holding his shoulders tightly. The poor boy was clutching his wrist & looked like he was trying his hardest not to sob in the public view. The wrist was bent at an awkward angle; it was broken. Kyle sat down on a nearby bench & Hector kneeled in front of him, examining his wrist carefully. "I'm sorry, Kyle, I'm so sorry," Hector muttered, his voice raspy.

"It's not your fault, Hec. It's mine. I screwed up on that piece-"

"Screwed up? You played it perfectly. I don't know what Cohen's problem is!" Hector said Cohen's name with every bit of venom he could conjure up. "We have to get you to the hospital. C'mon." He pulled the young boy to his feet & led him out of the area.

Cohen would break Kyle's wrist? For a supposed mess up on a piece he was playing? Kyle needed his hands to play the piano for Cohen so breaking his wrist seemed counterproductive. I've broken a wrist before, it took weeks to heal; weeks that Cohen would be without a pianist. I wouldn't put it past Cohen to make Kyle play regardless of the cast; hell, I'm sure he would break the cast off & tell Kyle to play.

Rapture was going to hell & Ryan was driving the bus.

I waited by the bathysphere station for Sinclair to show his mug after I found the two eating in one of the restaurants. I almost laughed when I spotted the red velvet cake on Sinclair's plate that he was digging in to happily. If that man had a kryptonite, it was for the taste of red velvet cake.

He passed me only about 10 minutes later escorting Miss Adler to the bathysphere. With a discrete nod everything was explained: He had made the offer, but now it was only the matter of the waiting game for Adler to agree to his terms


	14. Rapture Hunted

Dymond: WOO! I'm pretty much caught up! Man, I've never punched out these many chapters in the time span of a month & a few days. This is awesome. My wrist hurts, but I'll get over it. Nothing pain killers can't fix. And now we get to the piece de resistance! Camille working for Sinclair & slowly starting to find out about Hawkeye. And now that I've caught up, I can start swinging for Jamie/Sinclair a bit more along with Rapture slowly falling into madness! I'll let CaliforniaStop write out Fontaine's death since Fontaine is her jurisdiction in my mind while Sinclair is my own.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~(Rapture!)

_1958_

Camille Adler was now an official business partner of Sinclair Solutions; Sinclair was almost giddy. I didn't approve of his choice to bring her straight to Persephone after getting her office set up nice & pretty, but it was his choice. The reason was because of Andrew Ryan's commission of the new Protector Program to guard the Little Sisters who were being picked off one by one by the splicers that were rearing their ugly faces. Sinclair was providing the subjects for the program with his prisoners in Persephone.

It came as no surprise to me when she came back furious at him. As I reclined in my spot in the air ducts, I could hear her storm out of his office & slam the door behind her. Sinclair let out a loud groan & leaned back in his comfortable black leather chair at the whole thing. I dropped out of the vent & leaned against Sinclair's desk. "You okay?" I asked seeing the frustration wrapping around his very person. Sinclair gave me a slight pleading look. "Find out why she's upset. Got it."

"And remember to keep out of sight. If she couldn't handle Persephone, it'll be worse if she finds out 'bout you."

I rolled my eyes. "You make me out to be some kind of dirty secret. Besides, _you_ took her to Persephone, not me. Makes me wonder what you'd be without me."

Sinclair stood up from his chair & wrapped his arm around my shoulders, making me blush. "I'd be belly up somewhere, darlin'," He answered jokingly.

It took a few days, but Camille finally went someplace else other than her apartment. She had spent the past few days actively avoiding & ignoring Sinclair to the best of her ability not taking into account of their offices being side by side & that she had to report to him every day. But other than that, she was doing a decent job of it.

Camille had retreated back to Olympus Heights after work to a little bistro filled with other residents of the apartment complexes, but Camille seemed to be alone with a dry martini & a copy of the Tribune. That couldn't be good since most people in Olympus Heights didn't read it since it was mostly crap stories about crap people & sold for a quick buck.

I nearly flipped when Stanley Poole walked into the little bistro, looking around for someone. There was no way he was here to meet Camille. No one in their right mind would meet with Poole. She beckoned Poole over to her table & he nervously sat down, claiming that he was here to meet Sinclair. Camille threw him a curve ball & said she had called him there.

She asked him about Johnny Topside, which shocked me. Johnny Topside was someone that she shouldn't be concerned with since he was now locked up in Persephone; mentioning him would result in the hangman's noose. If anything, Topside was surviving the best way he knew how: Don't trust anybody.

Harmless enough, though, but it didn't explain why she was upset with Sinclair. If she remained upset with Sinclair, he would give me grief that I did not appreciate in the least. It was like dealing with a child who didn't get his way with a successful BAR Exam behind it. "Is Sinclair having me watched?" _Hello_, what have we here? Camille seemed to have caught on to Sinclair's little game, but mine as well. Stanley was one of the few people who I had interacted with making him perfect for this line of questioning & with the addition of a few crisp hundred dollar bills, she had Stanley in the palm of her hand. Well played.

"What?" The rat man asked.

"Is. Augustus. Sinclair. Having. Me. Watched." I applauded the bite in her tone. She seemed to have picked a few tricks up from Fontaine over the years of working with him.

"Why don't you go ask him yourself?" Poole questioned, leaning back & crossing his arms nonchalantly. Camille's eye narrowed at the notion. "Ah, so things aren't so cozy between you two, huh?" I smirked at the statement. Stanley couldn't have been more right.

"I don't want to talk about it. I don't want to ask _him_, I'm asking _you,_" She hissed at him.

"I don't know what you're talkin' about," Stanley said shaking his head. She drew her fingers back slowly with the money stuck under them. That made Stanley squirm. "Wait! I mean, I don't know what you're talkin' about because _I'm _not the one watchin' you, OK?"

"You're not?"

"Nope." Stanley had laid eyes on me now & started to sweat. He knew if he said the wrong thing, I'd have a few choice words & actions I'd say & do to him.

"So there _is_ someone watching me. How do I know you're telling the truth, Stanley? Honesty isn't exactly what I'd call your most prominent trait."

Stanley threw up his hands in his own defense. "It's not me! I _promise._ I got better things to do than tail someone like you. You know, I got my trashy newspaper to write, _remember_?" That comment earned him a punch later.

"Do you know who _is_ watching me?"

His eyes switched a few times from Camille, to the money before glancing over in my direction, not enough to give away that I was there but enough so Stanley could see me. "I-I dunno what makes you think Sinclair's got eyes on you, Adler?""

Please," she replied, "I'm not an idiot. I know Sinclair's keeping an eye on me – maybe not _his _own eyes, but definitely someone else's. A man like him just doesn't do business with someone he doesn't know everything about. He's got his finger on my pulse, so to speak. My suspicions were recently confirmed that I shouldn't be so trusting of Sinclair. I guess… I guess I didn't really want to believe it." She tapped her finger on one of the hundred-dollar bills. "All I want to know is who Sinclair has watching me."

Poole stared at the money but said nothing. It would take a little more grease to get this pig to squeal.

She began drumming her fingers on the table, drawing his attention to the money. She counted out a few more hundred-dollar bills & placed them on the small stack starting to form beneath her manicured fingers. Definitely Fontaine's influence. I almost applauded her her well played game.

He twitched.

"Stanley?" she questioned. "Not going to say anything? All right, then, I guess we're done here…" She pulled the money away.

"I don't know who Sinclair has watching you!" he cried.

"You know the ins & outs of the city," she said sarcastically. "I refuse to believe you don't have an answer for me." She was clearly unamused by Stanley's blatant avoidance to give away anything about me since he knew he'd be in a world of hurt if he gave away too much.

Poole shook his head. "No, what I mean is I don't know her name. She's, ah, I dunno, some rough duct-rat from the Drop. An orphan, I think. Sinclair and she have been doin' business for a few years now. Hell, she was tailing _me_ for a little bit. That's all I know, I swear!" He was close. I wasn't an orphan: my mother was still alive, just spreading her legs for some guy named Rupert.

"That's _all_?"

"Look, I don't know her name. She goes by some weird little moniker. Eagle or Falcon or something. Hawk-something. Hawkeye!" he concluded with a triumphant grin. Congratulations, Stanley, you're still getting your ass kicked.

"Where does she live?"

He shrugged. "Used to live in the Drop but I think Sinclair put her up somewhere nice."

Somewhere nice? _Right_ & the Artemis Suites was _nice._ Polish a turd, it's still a turd, but at least it was home. A home that I could feel somewhat safe inside just like Sinclair & I had agreed upon all those years ago.

She nodded & finished off her martini. "How long has she been watching me?"

Poole shrugged again. "I dunno, Adler."

"_Why _has she been watching me?"

"I dunno!" he screeched. I knew she realized by now that what she was told was all she was getting out of him because that was all he knew about me.

Camille sighed. She shoved the money towards him & muttered, "Get out of here."

Stanley took off like his ass was on fire.

I almost chuckled at this development. Camille was now on to me; regardless if she knew my name or not. All she knew was my little nickname Sinclair had picked out for me, but with a little whispering she could probably dig it out of Sinclair if she asked politely. She had successfully scared the piss out of Stanley Poole which earned her a few more points in my book, even going as far as bribery which Fontaine was especially good at. She had grown from the goody-two-shoes I had originally made her out to be to a woman of many faces, used to survive the ever changing world of Rapture.

I let a smirk grace my features as she paid the bistro & left with her handbag tucked under her arm. "Well played, Miss Adler, well played," I said to myself as she exited through the doors. "Gonna have to watch my step from now on."

I stood up & left having not ordered anything from the menu. Camille was one interesting woman: One second she's all hot & bothered over Fontaine, the next she's glaring down Stanley Poole wanting information like a true conman.

I caught up to Stanley easily at the bathysphere station & pulled him into a maintenance room, locking the door behind me. I crossed my arms & stared down the skittish man. "H-Hawkeye! Whatta... Whatta surprise!" He stammered scratching his elbow as a nervous tick.

I smirked & leaned against the nearby wall. "So, a few hundred dollar bills makes your tongue slip, does it?"

"I-I don't know-"

"You know exactly what I'm talking about. And I thought Sinclair paid you for silence?"

Stanley shifted nervously in place, glancing at the door for a possible escape, but with my position by the door handle escape was impossible. "Y-Yeah, about that..."

"Stanley, because I find this amusing, I will allow this to slide just once. But listen closely: nothing stays hidden from me. Nothing." I thought it over for a moment. "Actually, I think I can make this work for the both of us."

"What?"

"I want you to make her think that you're trying to figure out who I am. Start with small things: physical descriptions. Interactions I have with Sinclair. For example, the night of Cohen's big art reveal, I was there. If Camille asks Sinclair directly & he tells her everything, I will send you a message through the pneumo. Sound simple enough?"

"Yeah! Yeah! No problem, Hawkeye... Do I uh... get an incentive?"

"You're incentive is I don't gut you alive to keep my existence a secret. I've made quick the career out of it & I would prefer it to stay that way." I opened the door & he was gone before I could say goodbye.

The trip to Sinclair's office was shorter than usual. Probably because I was rushing in my joy of a challenge. "Figured out what's goin' on with Camille?" He asked the moment I dropped in through the vent.

"Even better." His hand froze mid-sentence on his memo. He raised an eyebrow, then set down the ball-point pen. "She knows she's being followed."

He looked shocked for a moment. "How did she find out? Did she see you?"

"No. She saw Stanley Poole." I grimaced at the man's name. "Met with him at a little bistro outside Olympus Heights. She asked him first about Johnny Topside, then she bribed him enough to get him to spill the beans on me. All she knows though is your little nickname for me & that I used to live in the Drop."

"And Stanley just..."

"I dealt with it."

Sinclair grimaced & rubbed his jaw. "And here I thought we were gettin' along again. She did come to Persephone & apologized for the outburst."

I shrugged. "Perhaps she's trying to catch you with your guard down. Or she figures it'll be easier to ask if she's being watched if you two are one good terms. Whatever you decide, I'll go with it."

Sinclair smiled at the statement. "That's what I like about you. You don't ask questions."

I smiled as well. "All I care is that I don't end up dead."

Sinclair stood & folded his hands behind his back, pacing toward the window that had a magnificent view of the city of Rapture & the surrounding coral reef. "How long have we worked together, Jamie?"

"Four years. Why?"

"Four years & not once did you complain about my businesses. Everyone else seems keen on tellin' me that I have a heart of stone."

I chuckled under my breath. I joined his side by the window & looped my arm with his. "Augustus, I lived in the Drop for years. If there is one thing I learned, it's don't bite the hand that feeds you. You were the only person who sought after me, even if it was for your own personal goals. You gave me a home, money... friendship." I gave his arm a squeeze. "I don't care for your businesses. You're just living the Rapture Dream & if anyone argues about, well tell them to shove it."

He unhooked our arms & replaced his arm around my shoulders, drawing me in close. "This is why we work so well together.


	15. Rapture Protector

Dymond: Onward my merry band of readers! The story awaits! And now I can finally go off on my own a bit since I caught up to the point where CaliforniaStop is. That means she can also write more & not have to wait for me (at least in my mind). A bit of a peek into Sinclair/Jamie romance.

Anyways, my internet browser seems to have 3 things always open while I'm working on this: the storyline on Bioshock Wikia, the timeline on the wikia & CaliforniaStop's Scars of Utopia that I keep refreshing the page in hopes of seeing another chapter added to the list. With slow internet that my grandmother has, it's the best I can do.

Onward my pretties!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~(Rapture!)

Another hanging. I could hear the protests of the people outside by the gallows, even with my door closed. A young couple this time, if I remembered correctly, who were in possession of smuggled crosses & bibles. I would have thought with the growing unrest in the poor houses the hangings would have ceased, but Ryan was just as heavy with the death penalty as those Eve's Garden betties are with penicillin. The screaming outside made it difficult to even remotely try to read, so I abandoned the book on the side table. I glanced out the window towards the gallows & grimaced.

Sullivan was standing there, grim as death with his hands behind his back not blinking once during the whole execution. The executioner read the final rights & pulled the lever. I flinched as their necks snapped once the rope tightened; a swift death for those wrongly tried. The crowd slowly dispersed as the executioner hung the 'parasite' signs around each of their necks. He & Sullivan shook hands then went their separate ways.

It escalated quickly from smuggling to a full scale arms race between Ryan's & Fontaine's armies, only it's not about who can build the best guns & the biggest bombs, it's about who can become less of a man & more of a monster. Hell, my neighbor Leo Hartwig had brewed himself up a concoction of leftover traces of Sports Boost, Armored Shell & other tonics for increasing muscle mass. He nearly tore apart the wall separating us in a fit of rage, but thankfully ended up outside again. He was now lumbering around Pauper's Drop & the Fishbowl Diner.

Sinclair was even getting a bit concerned sending me out into the streets since no where seemed to be safe anymore. The splicers had made their way into other parts of Rapture, high class & low class alike, but I knew how to avoid them mostly, so it was nothing I couldn't handle. Didn't stop him from emphasizing that I be careful going out to Pauper's Drop.

My hand pressed against the glass of my window as I noticed something new: a behemoth in a heavy diving suit following one of those Little Sisters. Were he one of those Big Daddies Sinclair told me about? It didn't seem all that impossible since it wasn't trying to gut the child for the slug lining their stomachs, I just never thought they'd be that big & wearing a diving suit for that matter. The drill was nothing less than menacing & already stained in blood from a splicer no doubt.

The girl looked a little different from the others since her dress was all white & didn't look covered in blood & grime like the others, meaning she was a new Little Sister. Most of the girls from the orphanage had already been used, so it made me wonder where this little girl came from. And there was something oddly... familiar about her.

A woman approached the two, her gaze mostly trained on the little girl & her steps careful. I could recognize her anywhere: Grace Holloway. Grace took a few more careful steps toward the girl, saying something to her. Note to self: learn to read lips.

The girl looked at her blankly before turning to the behemoth behind her & frantically pointing at Grace.

There was no way... There was no way that was Eleanor Lamb. Grace wouldn't approach any of the Little Sisters even if her life depended on it unless it was Eleanor. Grace had told me how the little girl was kidnapped by someone & couldn't find her anywhere. She was terrified that Lamb would be angry & ashamed with her, regardless if she was in prison or not. I did my best to keep an eye out for her, but she seemed to have vanished which surprised me since no one could hide from me, but there was one place I didn't check: The Little Sisters Orphanage. Someone must have sold her to the orphanage, but I didn't know who would since she _was_ Lamb's daughter & most of the residents of the Drop worshipped the ground she walked on.

I gasped when Grace went to hold little Eleanor but was violently knocked down by a swing of the Big Daddy's drill. I ran for my door & pulled it open; I had to get to Grace. I shoved past a few residents on the stairs & ran out the door of the apartment complex. "Grace!" I called, sprinting as fast as I could for her.

Grace scooted away from the Big Daddy when he lumbered over her, moving to give her a killing blow. I skidded to a stop, placing myself in front of her & held my hands up to stop the Big Daddy from killing the woman. Instantly, the stench hit me like a ton of bricks & I nearly fainted from the smell. "Stop! Stop! She means no harm! We'll just go!" The Big Daddy stopped mid-swing, watching me carefully. His free hand had a symbol drawn on the back of it: a triangle. Either that was what was drawn on all the Big Daddies or it stood for 'Delta'.

One hand dropped to Grace's outstretched one & I pulled her to her feet quickly. "We're going," I reassured frantically pulling Grace behind me as we left him to continue his business.

"Let's go, daddy!" The Little Sister -Eleanor- giggled pulling on Delta's hand. He lumbered behind her, watching with an ever careful porthole as she skipped & sang the child's tune "In the House of Upside Down".

I led Grace to Medical, mostly in silence since the swing from the drill had broken her jaw. "I'm sorry this happened, Grace," I said, carefully putting my hand on her shoulder. I stuffed a small wad of cash into Grace's pocket to pay for the medical bill before she was led away for surgery on her jaw to repair it. Now I kept in mind that approaching the Little Sisters in any way, shape or form could be the last thing I'd do with the new Big Daddies wandering around.

And Eleanor Lamb was a Little Sister now. Sofia would be spitting coals now if she found out (probably already did).

I left the Medical Pavilion to avoid Steinman's scrutinizing gaze.

Something itched in the back of my mind: That Big Daddy wasn't hesitating in his intent to kill Grace, but when I had shown my face, he stopped. Grace was more harmless than I am, but he still stopped his kill swing. I would almost say that he recognized me as an ally or something, but that's just be insane. Sinclair had explained to me that the Big Daddy program took the prisoners in his detention facility & turned them into protectors for the little girls, spliced up so they were big & powerful to take on a group of splicers no problem & bonded to a little sister. The Big Daddy held no recollection of who he was before he became a Big Daddy, being a side effect of the massive doses of plasmids given to them.

I shook my head at the whole situation & left for Sinclair's office crawling into an air duct by the security station.

Sinclair greeted me with a smile when I showed up. "You're here a little later than usual," He said sipping at his tumbler of whiskey; his cigarette balanced between his index & middle finger.

I sat down on the edge of his desk, crossing my knees. "I had a run-in with one of those Big Daddies. Broke Grace's jaw."

"Grace? Holloway?"

"The very one." His eyes scanned my body, searching for any injuries on my person. "I didn't get hurt, not even a scratch. He stopped when I went to retrieve Grace."

The cigarette didn't quite reach his lips after I said that. "He... stopped?" I nodded, crossing my arms Sinclair clicked his tongue & muttered, "Interestin'..." The cigarette was between his lips again. "Besides that: it seemed to be workin' properly? Wasn't abandonin' the Little Sister?"

"Kept pretty close behind her & attacked anyone who got too close."

Sinclair made a noncommittal noise & leaned back in his leather chair. "Gilly ought to be happy to hear that."

Gil Alexander: the man commissioned with the creation of the Big Daddies by Andrew Ryan. Gil, like most people working in the labs, was a scientific genius & reminded me of a fish since his eyes were small for his head & beady. It kind of freaked me out a little, but at least he was kind unlike the others who stuck up their nose at anyone who tried to surpass them in the scientific field. If those artist types were crazy, the scientists were lunatics. Rapture had it's fair share of mad scientists like the ones out of the movies & I'm not exaggerating: I'm fairly certain a few laugh maniacally pulling levers shouting, "It's alive! It is alive!"

"How's Camille adjusting to working for you?"

"Still hesitant about it, but she'll come around. She worked with Fontaine after all & he's far from a saint despite the poor houses & orphanages. I know a charity scam anywhere." He blew out a stream of smoke.

"You & me both. Planning on telling Miss Adler about me anytime soon?"

Stanley _had_ been slipping little notes to her pneumo on more than one occasion, but most of it seemed useless to someone like Camille; too smart & observant for her own good. No doubt she was getting a bit paranoid of her surroundings, believing I watched her day & night. If I had the ability to stay up for days on end, I'd be doing more productive things than watching her day in & day out. As long as Stanley kept feeding her like this, the game wouldn't end.

"I might if I can find a way to word it without settin' her off. She's like a firecracker: harmless at first until you cause a spark. I still find it funny how she apologized for spilling her drink all over the rug. It's not like it doesn't have coffee or blood already stained in to it."

I smiled. "Adds character."

"It's not even my blood. How does that happen?" He tapped his chin playfully. "Oh yeah, my crazy asset drops through the air vent covered in blood fightin' off a splicer so he doesn't send her into the great hereafter. I think you need a security system around you or somethin', you're goin' to give me a heart attack one of these days."

"Aw, you do care."

Sinclair reached up & patted my cheek, letting his thumb run over a few of the small scars that littered my face. "I always care." I reached up & patted the hand before standing up. "I'm going to be in Persephone tomorrow if you need anything."

He handed me a small list of names he wanted me to look in to, before sending me on my way; just in time too since Camille had walked in with a stack of papers right as I was completely in the air ducts. "Were you talking to someone?" I heard her ask.

"Yes. Phone call with Weir. Sorry if it disturbed you."

"No... No, it's fine. I have a few papers I need to check over with you."

I crawled silently away from the office so that she wouldn't hear me.

The day went by quickly as I finished up the last name on the list: Gloria Parson. Her husband had recently been locked up in Persephone for speaking out against Ryan & his bookstore completely emptied of it's belongings leaving her & her son alone, trying to make ends meet. I sympathized, I did, but I was not paid to sympathize. I was paid to get what Sinclair wanted with or without my approval of the situation.

I treated myself for a job well done with a burger from the Fighting McDonagh's before dropping off my report & heading home.


	16. Rapture Descent

Dymond: Another chapter! I've never had this much fun writing a story before. Plus I know the games inside & out so no need to memorize lines. That's what wikia is for. Bwahaha. Anyways, time for Jamie to save Sinclair's life for once instead of just her own neck. Here it comes!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~(Rapture)

Persephone: Secret home to Sinclair Solutions. It was cold, damp & smelled of something like an underground subway tunnel in New York. It was filled with hardened criminals & people that Ryan wanted gone alike, each probably had a run-in with Sullivan. I did not favor coming here for long periods of time, but I had to see Sinclair about his request of coming here more often to listen in on the prisoners for any discussions of escape or if anyone got a hold of the security office door code.

The ducts here were a little smaller than the rest of Rapture, but of course this place was built to drop into a miles deep ocean trench in case of emergency like a complete takeover, with minimal to no damage to the city. If that was the case, the air ducts would be closed automatically upon detonation of the supports to prevent flooding which meant I was screwed if I was ever here when the call came through the blast the supports. The security tower I was heading for was a little warmer than the rest of the building thankfully & that was where Sinclair was according to Weir.

I dropped in finally, scaring the piss out of a few of the guards stationed there. "Easy, fellas, she's with me," Sinclair reassured giving me a smile. "Nice of you to drop in, Hawkeye."

"You invited me here," I pointed out stepping over to the observation window. A few of the prisoners milled about below in the rec area.

"At least you're not getting dragged here," he also pointed out putting his hand on my shoulder. "Now, the reason I invited you here is the prisoners are whisperin' about a possible uprisin'. I want to get ahead of it."

"And you want me to move through the ducts & listen in?"

"Maybe undercover if you're feeling ambitious."

"Hell no."

"All right," he held up his hands in a mild defense.

"I'm surprised that you're here & not in your office."

"Yeah well-"

We both flinched at a small explosion that occurred near a cell & prisoners immediately flooded the area; screaming, hurling fireballs, shooting electricity & killing guards in the process. The screeching siren went off & the lights flashed red

"I think that uprising happened a lot sooner than you thought!" I exclaimed, grabbing Sinclair's arm & pulling him toward the exits. If it was the last thing I did, I was not about to let these prisoners, innocent or not, harm Sinclair.

A few of the guards with us grabbed rifles & hollered into radios, "THE BUTTERFLY IS TAKING WING! I REPEAT, THE BUTTERFLY IS TAKING WING!" Prisoners came into sight & were quickly put down by bullets. They ran into the hallway & were immediately jumped by several more prisoners. One managed to jump on Sinclair, knocking him straight to the floor.

I saw red. "Oh no you don't!" I growled low. He only got a punch in, busting open Sinclair's lip before I was tackling him off to the side, throwing punches. He kicked me off frantically & tried to crawl away, but I was on his back with my arms secured around his neck. He clawed painfully at my exposed arms leaving deep welts in my skin. With a twist, he neck was snapped & he slumped to the ground dead.

The guards shot a few more before the rest took off. I pulled Sinclair to his feet & shouted, "Move!" I noticed that I could see my breath meaning they were in the environmental controls.

"Where's Miss Adler?" Sinclair questioned a guard.

"Last I heard she was being led to the submarine bay under guard. She's safe."

"Adler was here?!"

"She wanted to see the processing for some reason. I don't ask very much," Sinclair explained quickly over the blaring sirens.

"Good. Then I don't have to go get her," I commented checking corners as we ran for the processing station; the final checkpoint before we were in the bathysphere station.

"_This is Dr. Sofia Lamb! We have very nearly taken this facility! You have all prepared for this. You all know what must be done_. _The conman, Sinclair, & his employees are fleeing at this very moment. We will be silenced no longer!_" Sofia Lamb? She was behind all of this? Leave it to Sinclair to allow her to hold private therapy sessions: the easiest way for her to plot an uprising one prisoner at a time. It was brilliant really: She made it seem like she was helping the prisoners with their problems & keep them docile & the prison ran mostly smoothly with the occasional fight breaking out. The prisoners, in return, got to vent their problems & put Sofia as their leader.

Prisoners again ambushed us, more than the other times leaving the guards to try & fight them off as I got Sinclair to the processing station. One was already killed with a pipe to the head, leaving 2 guards to hold their own against 6 prisoners in an enclosed hallway.

I looked at the processing station that was empty aside from a few guards waiting for Sinclair to arrive. "Augustus, go!" I ordered pushing him toward the bathysphere station.

"What 'bout you, kid?" He asked quickly grabbing my wrist. "I can't leave you behind!"

"I'll catch up. Sinclair, go! They'll die alone!" Sinclair gave me a last desperate look before continuing his run for the bathysphere station.

I turned back to the guards at the end of the hall. They were getting their asses handed to them, taking a few hits on their arms & legs from swinging pipes. My legs finally moved as I ran down the hallway toward the guards, using the wall as a springboard to give more power to a kick to a prisoner's head, sending him into one of his companions. One of the guards shot the two downed prisoners, leaving the odds a little more evened.

I stumbled when a punch connected with my eye & gasped for air when the prisoner kicked me in the stomach sending me down, my head colliding with the metal floor. "Hang on!" A guard shouted smashing the butt of his gun into the prisoner's skull, knocking him right out. His voice sounded muffled as my head seemed to spin inside my skull. I couldn't breathe, my vision was blurred from the impact with the floor & I could barely hear anything.

Getting hooks to parts of my body didn't hurt as bad I was hurting now, but then again all the injuries from the splicers never came into contact with my head.

I was pulled back into reality when a guard grabbed my arm & pulled me carefully to my feet, wrapping his arm around my shoulders to keep me upright. They shot the last two still standing & dragged me toward the bathysphere station. Sinclair was standing in the doorway waiting for us & he held out his hands to take me off the guard. He sat me down beside him & held me tight against his side. "You idiotic, suicidal, brave woman. I should fire you!" He exclaimed laughing slightly, kissing my forehead. It didn't help the pounding in my head, but I didn't voice it. Sinclair was already worried enough as it was.

"Sir, if she didn't come back for us, we'd be dead," One of the guards said, nodding his head reverently at me.

Sinclair nodded. "I know," He said. His knuckle went under my chin & he raised my face up for him to see better. "Your eye..." He muttered his thumb tracing the blue & black bruise forming.

"It's fine, really," I reassured scooting closer into his warm body. "Your lip is..." I bunched my sleeve up in my palm & patted lightly at the blood, trying my best to get it cleaned. It was a failing endeavor, but it made me feel better.

It was a quiet ride back to the Sinclair Tower aside from the hum of the bathysphere's engine.

When we arrived in the bathysphere dock in the basement level, we stepped out & looked around like this was heaven. "I never want to have to do that again," I said walking toward the elevator. Sinclair caught my wrist & pulled me to his chest, burying his nose in my dark brown hair. "Augustus?"

The guards shifted uncomfortably & quickly made their way to the elevator. "I was scared that I lost you. Don't even do that again," He said quietly.

I wrapped my arms around his waist & rested my cheek against his collarbone. "I'm sorry," I whispered, my eye sliding shut. It was silent for a while, but not awkwardly silent. It was a comfortable silence as Sinclair held me tightly. After that whole experience, I was thankful for being here with Sinclair safe & sound. "I suppose you should go check on Camille. I'm sure she's shaken up after that whole thing."

"Yeah. Yeah, I suppose I should. And I need to place a call to Andy Ryan. What are you goin' to do, Jamie?" he questioned spreading me back at arms length.

"Go home I guess. I need to get some aspirin for this headache forming."

He nodded, patting my shoulder once more before we headed toward the elevator. I left once the elevator hit the first floor & gave a small wave to Sinclair who waved back with a smile, but winced when it pulled on his busted lip. "Get that lip checked out!" I called to him & he nodded. The elevator doors closed, taking Sinclair up to the top floor.

The security guard at the front door gave me a nod as I walked past him.

Not even a week later I nearly dropped the newspaper delivered to my door.

Headline: Ryan takes down smuggling operation. Fontaine & thugs killed in fiery shootout!_  
_

Ryan actually did it. He actually took down Fontaine. When Sullivan had told his boys to get ready for it, I thought Fontaine would be ready for them & be elsewhere to avoid getting shot, but I guess he was set to go down guns-a-blazin', sick of Ryan's bullshit.

Or he was doing what I'm thinking he would do. Fontaine was a conman, meaning he's taken bullets before & knew how to make it look like he died. Fall back into the open sub bays, get picked up by a diver & taken elsewhere & he'd be gold. The chances of that happening was slim, but it wasn't out of the list of possibilities. Because that's what I would have done if I was in Fontaine's position.

I dropped the newspaper on the kitchen table & sat down, taking a drink of a glass of water. I thought a little bitterly that Camille would probably blame me for getting the information about it. If only she knew that I tried my hardest to avoid Fontaine like the plague & watching her was the closest I had ever gotten to the now dead conman. There was a reason he was called the Boogyman & like the legend of the Boogyman people tended to disappear.

But perhaps it'd be the push she'd need to ask Sinclair about me if she was as attached to Fontaine as I thought she was. Emotional about losing her former boss & heartthrob, it made people do stupid things like scream at the very person trying to be their friend. I'd have to keep more of an eye on Miss Camille Adler.

I glanced out the window, noticing people putting up more of those 'WHO IS ATLAS?' posters. Things were only going to get worse.


	17. Rapture Revolutionary

Dymond: Another chapter to this magnificent story! In the next chapter or so I might have Camille & Jamie finally meet face to face not sure if I want it to be a verbal warfare or Jamie popping up during a meeting with Stanley or something. Comment/PM with ideas (including you, CaliforniaStop. Need your idea on how they should meet as well).

Read, Rate, Review, would you kindly?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~(Rapture!)

I flipped aimlessly through the newspaper, stopping only to read an article written by Poole about the whole shoot out with Fontaine.

It was Peach Wilkins who had flipped Frank Fontaine to Ryan for a deal (deal remaining confidential). McDonagh, being the smart one, made it clear that they wouldn't touch his business interests, but Ryan only cared about finally getting a shot at Fontaine. Fontaine, on the other hand, signaled to every one of his workers that he was going to make one last stand & go down like John bloody Wayne rather than allow himself to be arrested. That's what the newspapers said anyway. Did I believe it? Yes, yes I did. Did I believe Fontaine was dead? Not in the slightest.

Despite the warnings, Ryan nationalized Fontaine Futuristics & made it part of Ryan Industries. Stupid move on his part since it sent the whole lower class Rapture community into an uproar.

"Ryan is nothing but a tyrant! Keeping us trapped here while he takes over everything we ever strived to achieve!" I heard someone shout over loud cheering from a crowd of people. I was at my window in an instant. There was a man standing on the top of a service station addressing the people surrounding him, his arms moving dramatically, his body physically moving to face different portions of the crowd. His cap covered a mess of blond hair while he was dressed in a starch, white shirt, black trousers, fisherman's gloves & work shoes. He looked like any other fisherman working in Fontaine Fisheries if I had to put a summarized description of the man. "Ryan thinks we don't exist down here! That we are just a 'problem' that can be pushed under a rug. But we are here! We are not a parasite to be exterminated! We are people with rights just as much as anyone.

"Rapture is falling apart. The system is failing! Ryan has ignored & spit on us long enough! No more will we submit to his attack dogs' commands! No more will be bow at his feet! No more! Rapture is our home & we will fight for the right to live in her!"

The people around him let out a huge cheer, chanting, "Atlas! Atlas!"

Atlas... From the ashes of Fontaine's demise, Atlas rose to be even more dangerous than Fontaine ever was when it came to openly speaking out against Ryan. He took advantage of the poor houses & orphanages to rally the underprivileged against Ryan. He was building an army in those poor houses -a room filled with fireworks would be the equivalent- & all it was one match to set off a big bang.

But Fontaine didn't seem overly inconvenienced by his own demise: a few guerilla attacks had occurred on Ryan's security team & a few Little Sisters being killed for their ADAM slugs by Atlas' militia & that in return had people lining up down the block for Plasmids to protect themselves. Everyone splicing their mothers up in order to protect themselves from whose ever side they were one: Ryan or Atlas.

The man had balls, I'll give him that. And he knew how to keep himself hidden from the public eye. He hid out mostly in the poor houses as my information goes, but I was not inclined to tell Andrew Ryan anything.

I had asked Sinclair what he thought of Atlas & he only said that he didn't care what happened as long as he was making money.

In other news, Dr. Yi Suchong was killed very violently apparently in a vicious Big Daddy attack when he had slapped a Little Sister leaving Gil Alexander in full control of the Big Daddy Program. McDonagh resigned his position on the Council in protest to it. Andrew Ryan's grip on Rapture tightened ten fold as the death penalty was enforced if anyone was to protest against this & still continued to smuggle items in. A short drop & a sudden stop was his favorite.

Camille was continually harassed by Sullivan even after Fontaine's death & it was taking its toll, even more-so since the news of Fontaine's death. Sullivan was only interested in her to find out if she herself had committed any sort of crime against Rapture for an excuse to torture the poor girl & string her up for the vague answers she gave him during their interview. My finger danced over the play button of an Accu-Vox before pressing down. The Accu-Vox crackled to life & Camille's voice croaked out in the old speakers, _"I miss Fontaine. I miss him a lot. But there's nothing I can do about it. Sinclair is all I have._" She chuckled bitterly on the recording_ "I can't believe this is how things have ended up."_ The recording came to an end. Camille had sounded high during the whole recording, probably taking a line of Fontaine's coke before recording it. The thought probably burned in her mind until she had gotten it recorded on her little Accu-Vox.

"Story of my life..." I muttered. I had dropped into Camille's apartment shortly after she had went to bed to retrieve the recording, replacing it with a new reel to avoid some suspicion. If she replayed the tape, then the theft would easily be noticed, but that would only fuel her drive to find out who I am if Sinclair hadn't told her all ready.

I glanced up when I heard a small rap on wooden door. Tucking the Accu-Vox with Camille's audio diary into one of the cabinets, I walked to the door & peeked through the peephole. "Grace?" I questioned, opening the door. I stepped to the side & allowed her into the apartment, gesturing to the sofa to relax. "What brings you here?"

She smiled weakly, her entire jawline bruised from surgery. "I wanted to thank ya," She said quietly to avoid causing any sort of damage to the wire in her jaw.

"Thank me?"

"I wouldn'tve been able ta afford the procedure if it weren't for that money ya gave me. Where did ya get that much money?" She asked leaning forward.

"Need anything to drink?"

"Some 'erbal tea would be nice. But you didn't answer ma question," She demanded as I escaped into the kitchen. She stood up & followed me set on getting the information out of me.

"Grace-" I filled up a tea kettle full of water & placed it on the stove.

"Don't 'Grace' me, young lady," She scolded, her hands on her hips. "Who is it that you're workin' for? They gave you a job, gave you dis apartment, gave you a life. But you can't tell me who it is that gives these things to you?"

"Grace, I just can't. Is that so hard to believe?"

"I thought you trusted me."

I pointed an accusing finger at her. "Don't you dare pull that on me. Grace, I trust you, but there are some things that I just can't tell you. I can't risk it getting out; it's too important to my job that no one knows."

"Then I promise I won't tell anyone."

"It's not enough, Grace."

The kettle hissed from the steam, signaling that the water was boiling. I took the kettle off the stove & filled up a cup before I placed a tea bag inside. Grace took it from my hand & placed it on the counter. "Jamie dear, I worry 'bout you. You're like a daughter to me, child. I lost Eleanor, I can't lose you too. It'd be too much for this withered heart."

I placed my hands on Grace's shoulders. "Grace, I'm sorry. I just can't tell you. I can tell you only that my work does not put me in immediate danger. I'm only as much in danger as anyone else with those splicers crawling around."

Grace sighed & picked up her cup. She took a sip & went back into the sitting room.

I loved Grace Holloway, I really did, but sometimes I didn't know how she kept going the way she did. The only way she was probably staying alive & keeping out of Persephone with Lamb is I've been keeping her out of it. If only she knew how much I was giving up to keep her out of the list of people Sinclair hands me every other day. "That girl?" I questioned causing Grace to look up sharply at me. I stepped into the sitting room & folded my arms. "You're sure that was Eleanor?"

"Yes. I'm sure. I'd know that child anywhere."

I carded my fingers through my hair & sighed. I didn't know what to do. Nothing short of taking on that Big Daddy & taking Eleanor away, but that was suicidal. Taking on splicers was hard enough without plasmids aiding me, but taking on a Big Daddy without them... Sinclair would have to find himself another spy.

Grace left an hour later, leaving me alone once again which I enjoyed. I'd have to be more careful around Grace since now I knew that she was asking questions about the whole situation of my employment. I laughed bitterly at a thought that came to mind: I was watching Camille & Camille was suspecting me. Grace was watching me & suspicious of me.

No matter the outcome, people were on edge around me, except for Sinclair. Sinclair didn't seem to care about what I did as long as it profited him. Added with the fact that he seemed to genuinely care about me only fueled my drive to give him what he wanted & to defend him to the death. Otherwise I'd be another one of those people out there splicing up anything possible to become a monster in a war I wanted nothing to do with. I applauded Atlas for becoming the savior of the people in Pauper's Drop & giving the hope they desperately needed, but that didn't mean I was lining up to join his army.

I took a small comfort that Grace wouldn't be out there splicing up since she was getting older & her allegiance was to Lamb & not to Atlas.

The PA system gave a small screech before it sounded off, "_Atlas is a friend of the Parasite. Don't be a friend of Atlas._"

Ryan already got the PA system to broadcast anti-Atlas propaganda. "_Ignore the lies of Atlas & his Parasites. Rapture is on the rise_." The second announcement came through & I rolled my eyes.

I could confirm over 2/3 of what Atlas was talking about, but I wasn't paid to tell Atlas anything nor was I paid to tell Ryan anything; I was paid to tell Sinclair. Quite honestly, I don't think I would accept work outside of Sinclair.

The Accu-Vox was pulled out again & a new reel replaced into it (Camille's tucked into a hollowed out book & put back on the bookshelf). I had never really done anything like this before since I mostly voiced my complaints out loud in the safety of my own apartment or to Sinclair, but everyone seemed to find some sort of comfort in these things.

I hit record & sighed, "First diary. My name is Jamie Donovan, better known as Hawkeye. It is... November 18th I think, 1958. Grace came to see me today demanding answers. She wanted to know who I worked for, but I couldn't tell her. I couldn't tell her that I worked for Augustus Sinclair, the man who put Sofia Lamb behind bars. I knew she'd be angry, out for blood... Sinclair's blood & I couldn't have that happen. If something happened to Sinclair... I dare not think of it. I would sooner die than watch Sinclair get taken down by the people Grace calls the Rapture Family." I hit the button to end the recording.

I shook my head & shoved the Accu-Vox into a drawer of my desk to be forgotten about. I felt a little nice to get that off my chest, but that didn't mean I liked those little Accu-Voxs. Anyone could get a hold of the reels much like Camille's resting inside of a hollowed out book on my shelf. Of course I did sneak into her apartment & take it out of my own curiosity & to get some sort of bigger reaction out of her. I knew it was a bit childish, but I didn't have much a childhood so I felt entitled to a little childish behavior every now & then.

I pulled on a dark green overshirt over my sleeveless shirt. I made haste out of my apartment once I saw the crowd outside disperse. What I had failed to see was Sullivan & his boys grabbing & arresting people until one of them twisted my arms behind my back.

And I made the mistake of fighting back because I thought it was a Splicer at first. I easily broke his nose, but when I realized my mistake I couldn't run since two more of Sullivan's guys tackled me to the ground, forcing my arms behind my back painfully. "Fuck!" I cursed when the handcuffs were latched on painfully tight.

"Attack my boys will you?" Sullivan sneered. "Another parasite of Atlas no doubt." I said nothing.

Anything I say will be misquoted & used against me


	18. Rapture Confrontation

Dymond: Another chapter of See All Evil! And now Sullivan has his greedy little hands on Jamie. Will she be able to talk herself out of this one or will Sullivan 'accidentally' kill her? Find out in this next edition!

Wrote this while listening a the Bioshock 2 Special Edition soundtrack. I'm not special at all.

You know the drill: review, rate, favorite, follow, would you kindly?

And come on! 4 reviews! All from CaliforniaStop! As much as I love her, I _know_ there are more of you. I'm working my ass off here! Show some love to a girl, would you kindly?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~(Rapture!)

I knew Sullivan's interrogation sessions were unethical & often deadly, but I never thought I'd experience it for myself. I was strapped to a table with my arms spread out wide, palms up, wearing nothing but my undergarments for humiliation in a room somewhere in Fontaine Fisheries of all places. All I could tell was that it was colder than a witch's brew. I was left alone for several hours first, letting the cold set in to my exposed body before Sullivan began his interrogation. It was a simple request he gave, "Tell us where Atlas is & this will be over quickly."

But I didn't know where he was. He frequently bounced between poorhouses to keep out from the radar of Ryan's attack dogs while others willingly threw themselves in the way. He was new, unpredictable & it was hard to keep track of him since he did bounce around so much.

"I don't know," I answered strongly in hopes that he'd let me go.

"Like we haven't heard that before. How about I give you a taste of what's to come for you..." Sullivan circled me with an observant & perverse gaze as a knife -freshly sharpen- twirled aimlessly between his fingers. He held tight to the handle quickly & sliced along my thigh. I bit down on my bottom lip to keep any form of pained noise from coming out; I would not give Sullivan the satisfaction of hearing me scream. "Same question."

"I don't know," I said glaring at him, my breathing becoming heavy. The blade danced over my left arm & sliced in a slightly diagonal direction.

"This will be easier if you just tell me. You think I enjoy carving up a pretty girl like yourself? Tell me where Atlas is."

"And I'm telling you: I don't know! I've never met Atlas. He's just a guy who riots outside of my apartment building." Another slice, connecting the first one & going diagonally in the opposite direction.

This line of questioning continued until an A was carved into my arm, followed by an L, a T, another A & an S. Sullivan had _carved_ ATLAS into my fucking arm just to get me to talk about someone I knew very little about: I only knew about his bouncing between the poorhouses, his looks & the fact he was Irish, but anyone could figure that out from his heavy accent. All just to get me to talk.

But I wasn't talking: by the end I was screaming for a God that didn't exist.

My whole arm felt like it was on fire from the lacerations, deep enough to scar, but not deep enough to sever any veins. Each cut was worse than the previous & combined, I thought for sure I was going to die from the shock. The only break I got was when he had cut into a different part of my body, but it only added to the pain I was in. "What should I carve into the other?" Sullivan asked the tip of the blade poking into the palm of my right hand lightly. "Parasite? Death? Take your pick. Unless you want to talk to us about Atlas."

"Please..." I begged, tears flowing down my cheeks. "I don't... I don't know where he is. I've never even met Atlas. All I know is he's some Irishman from the Fisheries. I was just on my way to work."

Sullivan quirked an eyebrow. "Where do you work?"

I couldn't breathe after I muttered, "Sinclair..." I wanted it to stop, I wanted the pain to end. I couldn't take it anymore. "Just get Sinclair..."

"Sinclair?" Sullivan questioned. "Why would Sinclair have anything to do with you?"

"I'm telling you the truth. Just... Just get him. Please..." Sullivan pursed his lips before calling out for one of his boys to go & fetch Sinclair.

"If you're lying, I will not be afraid to continue our 'talk'," He snickered as he sunk the blade into the table right by my side making me flinch. It just barely touched my exposed skin, the metal cold & unforgiving. I hated this war, I hated it with everything I had. I hated Ryan, I hated Atlas, I hated the splicers, I hated Sullivan. I just wanted to go home, to go see Sinclair, to do my work without a single hitch.

I wanted to kiss Sinclair in relief when he entered the room & gasped at my state of being. He jerked off his jacket & laid it across my body before setting to work on the ropes that secured me. "Who in the hell did you think you had?" Sinclair snapped at Sullivan who backed up at the tone. Sinclair rarely was angry, so for him to snap at people was a bit of a shock for Sullivan.

My undamaged arm came loose & I used it to hold Sinclair's jacket to my chest. He carefully set to work on the second binding, his eyes never leaving the 'Atlas' carving. "I'm sorry, darlin', this shouldn't have happened," He whispered placing a kiss on my sweaty forehead. My arm was free & I cradled it to my chest to try & stop the bleeding. The strap holding my legs down was freed & Sinclair gingerly helped me off the table. He helped my arms into the sleeves of his jacket & buttoned it up for some form of decency before tucking me under his arm.

"Touch her again, I dare you," Sinclair threatened shoving past Sullivan who held a look of complete astonishment. The Fisheries was still as cold as I remembered, but with the lack of clothes & the fact I had no shoes on made my body painfully aware that the Fisheries was covered in a thin layer of ice. "We're almost out, darlin'. Hang on."

I gripped tightly to Sinclair's shirt, pressing my body into his side to try & warm myself up more in the cold air.

The realization hit me then at how lucky I was. Barely anyone had gotten out of Sullivan's interrogation sessions alive, most dying of extremely painful torture methods to get the information he wanted. Like Timmy who was shocked to death to get him to flip over Fontaine, but Timmy's fear of Fontaine kept him from saying anything other than for Sullivan to do his worst because Fontaine could do double what Sullivan could do. I probably would have died as well if Sinclair didn't come for me because Sullivan would have taken my 'I don't know' for protecting the whereabouts of Atlas. If I was someone like Camille Adler, I probably wouldn't have been strapped to that table because people would notice if a resident of Olympus Heights suddenly disappeared. Someone who lived in Apollo Square or Pauper's Drop would never be noticed, just another body in Rapture's wake.

I didn't even know where Sinclair was leading me, I just held to his shirt tightly with my mind blank. I didn't even respond to a doctor who did the examination of my wounds, cleaning them with disinfectant that I couldn't even feel. He was appalled by the name carved into my arm & did his best to fix it to prevent scarring, but I knew I'd have 'Atlas' carved into my arm for the rest of my life. Or until I broke down & resorted to calling Steinman & getting surgery to fix it, but it'd be a very cold day in Hell when that happened.

The doctor pulled off his gloves & turned to Sinclair to discuss my condition. "The numerous lacerations should close in a week or two, but she has to avoid excessive activity to prevent them from opening again. I've done my best to repair them in a way that won't scar, but there will be thin scarring left behind after it all heals up. With some corrective surgery, she can get rid of the scarring. She has to keep putting this disinfectant on," The doctor handed Sinclair a bottle of disinfectant. "She can go home now. Just sign these release forms."

Sinclair nodded, signing the papers & walked over to the table I sat on. The doctor was kind enough to retrieve an extra uniform that the nurses wear including shoes so I didn't leave here in nothing but the jacket, but I still wore Sinclair's jacket taking comfort in the spicy smell of his cologne. "C'mon, sweetheart," He said wrapping his arm tight around my shoulders.

We crawled into the bathysphere, but instead of pulling the lever to Apollo Square he pulled it to Olympus Heights. I looked up at him a little confused & he smiled. "I'm goin' to pull all the stops & make you a grand Southern meal. A nice home cooked meal, something you can't really get in Rapture." Except at the Fighting McDonagh's Tavern when McDonagh was behind the bar. "I already had a catfish marinatin' in the fridge for about half an hour now. I'll make you a delicious Southern fried catfish." He talked about the dinner plans until we reached the bathysphere station.

I had never been inside his apartment in Olympus Heights, preferred to stay out of the rich neighborhood because God only knows what I'd hear behind closed doors. I only came here when I had to, but again, that was slim. Normally I would have put up a fight about going to Olympus Heights, but I just did not have the energy to argue about it, just let Sinclair lead me.

The bathysphere docked at the bathysphere station connected to Olympus Heights & we stepped out. Once again, Sinclair had his arm around my shoulders & guided me to his apartment. We had passed Camille Adler's apartment on the way & I almost smiled at the mild irony: She was trying to find out who I was & I was walking right past her door, right under her nose. Sinclair stuck his finger into the genetic lock & flinched when it pricked his finger, unlocking the door. He pushed it open & allowed me to enter first. "Welcome to my home."

Like Olympus Heights, Augustus Sinclair's apartment was the finest that money could buy with a homey Southern tone to it with the exception of a few black leather sofas like he had brought the furniture down with him from the surface. The apartment even smelled of wood & that country breeze I had grown up with living in the UK on my grandfather's orchard. I could almost feel the breeze brush through my hair with the smell of fresh apples from the trees. My mother hated living with my father's parents, but I absolutely loved it: the 80 acres they owned that I used to run almost every day, eating apples whenever I got hungry, playing with the bloodhound my grandparents named Brutus. Those were happier times, too easily forgotten in the growing nightmare of Rapture. It was memories like those that kept me going.

Sinclair set me down on the oak hand carved sofa, the white of my skirt a sharp contrast to the navy blue of the cushions. He walked calmly over to the gramophone & plucked a record from stack he owned. The gramophone crackled to life when he flipped it on & set the needle gently on the record & swayed slightly to the first track of the Ink Spots with the song I'm Making Believe featuring Ella Fitzgerald. He gave me a smile & walked back over, holding out his hand. "Can I burden a lady for a dance?" He said as smooth as a 1931 Bourbon Deluxe Whiskey*.

I rolled my eyes & pulled off his jacket, resting it on the arm of the sofa. I took his outstretched hand & allowed him to pull me up. I blushed when he placed a small kiss on my knuckle in a small gesture of something I didn't know, but hoped it was out of romance. Romance... I couldn't believe the topic had come up in my mind. What would Sinclair want with a little duct-rat like me? It's not like I was proper housewife material. I'd drive myself nuts being cooped up in a house all the time while Sinclair went to work.

He wrapped his arm around my middle to keep me close to him & held out my right hand. I rested my free hand on his shoulder & my head pressed against his collarbone as he led the little dance in the middle of his sitting room. "Are you all right?" he asked, referring to my lacerations.

"I'm fine. Just let me enjoy this moment," I whispered contently. I felt him chuckle & continued to sway back & forth with me, slowly moving in a circle.

Sinclair spun me around before dipping me down for the finish to our little dance, a grin spread across his face. I laughed as I was pulled up straight again. "Been a while since we just danced," Sinclair pointed out his eyes never leaving my own.

"The Kashmir, yeah."

He chuckled & spread away from me, departing to the kitchen to get the meal prepared. Sinclair poked his head out of his kitchen after a while & said, "Almost ready. Can you be a doll & set the table?"

I nodded & followed him into the kitchen, grabbing the stack of kitchenware he had set out for me to grab & go set the table in the dining room. Sinclair came out a few minutes later with a plate of his Southern fried catfish & gave me a healthy portion before serving himself up some.

Before he could sit down, he was distracted by a loud knock at his door. "Who would be here at this time?" He questioned giving me a curious look.

I shrugged & took a bite of the food. I almost moaned at the taste: Sinclair was one hell of a cook.

He left the dining room & answered the door. "Why, Miss Camille," I heard him greet. "I... Well, I don't know what to say. Did we have something on tonight?"

"Are you busy, Mr. Sinclair?" Her voice came through slurred. She'd been drinking all right.

"Well, I'm jus' in the middle of dinner, honey. But I've got time for you."

"No, you're busy. I won't take up too much of your time then."

"Honey?"

"Give me back my tape recording." There was a bite to her tone. Heh, I thought she wouldn't have noticed it was missing, being as high as she was, but I give her credit for remembering.

"What recordin'?" I almost regretted taking it, because now she was blaming Sinclair for it.

"My recording. The one where I confessed - where I talked about Fontaine. And me. Give it back. I know you have it."

"Honey, I have no idea what on earth you're talkin' about. Honest."

"You had that slimy little _spy_ go into my apartment & _retrieve_ that recording for you!" Well the cat was out of the bag, but really? Slimy? I'm not sure whether to laugh or take offense. Aside from my 'interrogation' session with Sullivan, I've been pretty clean thank you very much, Miss Camille. "I _know_ you did! I _know_ she's been in my apartment.

Sinclair was silent.

"Give it back. _Now!_ Or have you passed it along to Chief Sullivan, hmm?" The 'ATLAS' carving in my arm burned at Sullivan's name. Please, like I would do that. I'm not that heartless, not after what that bastard did to me...

"Miss Camille, you are causin' a scene, & to be frank, I don't appreciate it. Now, I don't know anythin' about a recordin', or Sullivan, or _anythin'_ that you're on about. I'm not sure what makes you think I sent someone to your home-"

"You enjoy mocking me, that's why! You enjoy mocking me about Fontaine! Your cryptic little comments from today about me & him & his death - that's where you get your kicks, right?" His kicks? "So what? Who cares what I thought about Fontaine? It's _nobody's goddamn business."_

"I don't enjoy mockin' you, darlin'. I am _genuinely_ concerned about you _because_ I know how much he meant to you." Understatement. I've been feeling the brunt of that concern for a few years now. It's not fun watching a girl drink most of the time & examine paperwork. _So_ much excitement all right.

"Is that why you've had someone watching me for God knows how long? Because you _care_?" Yes. "And you know what? I found out about it & I let it slide. I thought, I shouldn't ruin our friendship & our working relationship over something like this because _you're too important to me._ I thought, he probably has his reasons for paying some orphan from the Drop to watch me. Then I find out that she's been in my _apartment_, taking my _things_!" That was only once, for your information, Miss Camille. "Then I thought, _why_ have I been ignoring this, pretending like nothing was wrong? Like an _idiot_! Go on, Mr. Sinclair, deny it!"

I rolled my eyes & enjoyed Sinclair's food. "I won't deny it, Miss Camile," Sinclair said making me smile. Fate had a sense of humor. "I had someone watchin' you."

"Why?!" She cried out. "I was _good _to you! I _trusted_ you! And for what? So you can sell me out to Sullivan," I twitched at his name again. "or Ryan at your earliest convenience?"

Sinclair snorted a laugh. "No one's gonna sell you out to _anyone_, Miss Camille. So you can put _that_ right out of your head, thank you very much. As for the reasons why I had you watched, well, I reckoned you were one worth watchin'. Is that such a bad thing?"

There was a long pause of silence. Sinclair: 1, Camille: 0. "Just give me back my tape, OK?" She muttered, sniffling to hold back tears.

"I don't know how many times I have to tell you this, darlin', but I don't have your tape. I don't even know what tape you're talkin' about!" He paused. I smiled, knowing where this was going. "But I know exactly who to ask." The door closed after a moment & multiple footsteps entered the apartment. "Now, I wasn't exactly countin' on this happenin' _tonight_ but, well, you've twisted my arm, honey. Dinin' room's through there. Be gentle, Miss Camille, she's had a hard day."

"What are you talking about?" She asked, but Sinclair said nothing.

I smiled as Miss Camille entered through the archway & stopped right as her eyes fell on me. Her makeup was a little smeared probably from wiping at it with her gloved fingers, but how else was she going to look when finally confronting me.

Sinclair came in & stood at a decent enough distance from the emotional woman staring me down which I did not reprimand him for it. There is an emotional woman: whether or not this turns into a catfight remains to be seen. And it's an unspoken rule among men to _never_ get in the middle of women brawling. I was content enough for it to be a stare down, my body too much in pain as it was.

"Hawkeye," She murmured with a smirk.

"Miss Adler," I said with my own smirk. "I suppose you've come for your tape? That argument at the door seemed to be the case."

"Where is it?" She demanded, her smirk disappearing.

After the all the years of being followed by me earned her some honesty from me. The woman was all ready emotional as it was, no need to provoke her. "Not here. At my apartment."

"Where is your apartment then?"

"Apartment 26, Artemis Suites."

She seemed taken back by it. "Artemis Suites? I would have thought-"

"That with having a friend like Sinclair I'd be put up in Olympus Heights. No, I requested that I get an apartment in Artemis Suites."

"Requested?"

I waved a hand at her. "I'll explain everything when we go. But for now, I wish to enjoy the food. Sinclair didn't slave over a stove just for me to leave in the middle of the meal." I stood up & walked past her into the kitchen, taking note of our differences it height. I opened a cabinet & pulled out another plate & grabbed another set of silverware from the drawer before heading back into the dining room. "Eat something. I can hear your stomach."

She unconsciously rubbed her hand over her stomach & reluctantly sat down in front of the plate. Sinclair served her a helping of the catfish & sat down to enjoy his own plate. The tension was so thick one could cut it with a knife... poor analogy.

I helped Sinclair clean up the dishes & Camille waited for me by the door. After I deposited the plates into the sink, Sinclair pulled me into a comforting hug & I winced when he squeeze a little hard on a laceration on my side. "Sorry," He mumbled into my hair, but didn't release me. "Thank you, for this. Why _did_ you take the tape?"

"To get her to confront you about me."

Sinclair held me out at an arms length. "You... _wanted_ her to know about you?"

"She already knew. It was only a matter of time before something pushed her over the edge to get her to confront you. I just gave her a shove."

Sinclair rolled his eyes & kissed my forehead. "Do that again & I just might fire you."

"You need me too much to do that," I smirked & pulled away from him. "See you tomorrow, Augustus."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~(Rapture!)

*It was the first whiskey I drank when I turned 18 & still the smoothest I ever had after a long list of whiskey brands. The bottle used to belong to my great-grandfather who had it sitting on a shelf with a bunch of other older-than-dirt alcohol brands, even a few from his days as a speakeasy bartender during Prohibition. Some of them were unmarked & even he didn't know what was in them. But for some reason I had felt myself drawn to that bottle for years, my fingers tracing the glass over & over again. He used to laugh & take the bottle from me saying I wasn't old enough to drink it yet. Imagine my surprise the day my grandfather passed away 5 days before I turned 18 & we read his will: he wrote down that I was to get the bottle when I turned 18 along with the others from Prohibition. I still haven't drank the others, but that bourbon was the best I had ever had. Thank you, grandfather, I will always cherish the bottle & toast you every year on the anniversary of your death.

There, a little look into my life with my family. Not much else about them


	19. Rapture Calm

Dymond: Sorry it's been a while. I had to help my mother move while freezing my ass off in the awesome Wisconsin weather that PMS's worse than a pregnant chick. I'm certain we're the only state that can experience all seasons in one week. I had to do most of the heavy lifting since I'm one of the few who is called when muscle is needed. Whatever.

Camille & Jamie finally meet face to face. It's... _mostly_ civil, but who knows how long that'll last especially since those two are going to Jamie's apartment to get Camille's stolen tape. This ought to be interesting... I'm going to be moving the Sinclair/Jamie romance along because next update: The New Years Riots.

Been playing Resident Evil 6 for a while just to get rid of my Piers Nivans-withdrawl. Don't judge. I'm back & ready to kick ass.

You know the drill, review, favorite, follow, would you kindly?

Edit: Why does it keep cutting off the last letter, number, punctuation or something. It's driving me nuts!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~(Rapture!)

I could feel Camille's gaze on me as we walked to Apollo Square in a relatively awkward-as-hell silence (awkward for me at least), likely examining who the illusive Hawkeye was & trying to figure out if she had seen me before & how she had missed me. That's what I would've done at least. I would have expected more yelling or screaming, but she was quiet; only opening her mouth every now & again like she was going to say something but would stop herself. I guess she didn't think ahead to this point of the actual confrontation between me & her. I guess I could thank Sinclair for softening the blow that would have happened if we had met under different pretenses (myself being uninjured, Camille more sober, Sinclair more... Sinclair).

This wasn't how our meeting went down in my head: I pictured some big verbal fight in the middle of Sinclair's office from her walking in unexpectedly maybe with a few slaps thrown in my direction or in Sinclair's (which she wouldn't have gotten out of the office on her own two feet if that occurred) & a few things broken in the process. Then again my imagination does tend to run away with itself some times. I've had 5 or 6 years to get really good at imagining things atop the King Pawn sign.

So this will have to do.

It was a little strange walking next to the woman who more than likely hated my guts & was more than likely plotting my demise as we speak, but I was more amused if anything. Camille Adler - former secretary of Fontaine Futuristics, now liaison between Ryan & Sinclair along with working in the Sinclair Solutions marketing & advertising department - was walking side by side with the infamous Hawkeye: the "slimy, little spy" & "orphan from the Drop". I suppose I've been called worse over the years. And now I was leading her to my apartment of all places; Fate had a morbid sense of humor. At least she didn't ask about the nurse's outfit I was wearing.

My leg gave me a stab of pain in protest to being used so much & I ignored it. I needed more aspirin when I got to my apartment; another thing that changed since I started working with Sinclair : I've been taking a lot more aspirin for injuries & headaches. I tried my hardest to cover up my limp from the slice to the back of my leg, but Camille seemed to notice. "You're limping."

"Thank you, I realize that."

She stared down at the bandage wrapped around my leg, exposed thanks to the nurse's skirt. "It's bleeding," She pointed out again.

I stopped & twisted my leg around to see the bandage was in fact turning a _lovely_ shade of crimson. "Shite..." I cursed, allowing only a little of my accent to bleed through. "That's great."

"Do you..." She paused for a moment. "Do you need any help?" Her hand came to rest on my shoulder.

"No, it's nothing," I shrugged her off.

So that was the reason why she was keeping silent: I was covered in bandages from obvious injuries & Sinclair had warned her that I had a rough day - another bloody understatement. I smiled at Sinclair's warning to be gentle with me; that man was making me go soft. It was nice, though, to be able to talk to Camille for once instead of keeping an eye on her from the air ducts or discretely from a relatively close distance like that night she met with Stanley Poole. I couldn't vouch for her feeling the same, but she was at least civil & sober about the whole ordeal.

"I'm surprised you aren't asking me a million different questions," I was blunt. I hated the silence & the awkward questions she'd ask. Damn her concern about my injuries, they'd heal over time. The ATLAS carving would scar me for the rest of my life, but I'd deal with it on my own terms.

"I'll take a rain check on that. I'll settle for getting my tape back & let you rest so your injuries can heal."

"I'm surprised you're not asking about the injuries."

"I didn't know how to ask without destroying the civility."

I scoffed at the notion, stopping momentarily to give her a skeptical look. "Miss Adler, I can take a lot of punishment. A few questions is not going to kill me. C'mon, give me your best shot." I scratched at the bandage around the ATLAS carving, reminding myself to put some disinfectant on it as well take aspirin. We continued on our way.

Camille sighed & dug into her handbag for a cigarette. She perched it between her lips & sifted around for a lighter. She paused after a few moments & looked at me. "Got a lighter?" I shook my head 'no'. She looked away for only a second before she asked again, "Incinerate?"

"No."

"Oh, okay then." She continued to rummage around in her bag until she finally pulled out a little silver lighter & lit the end of her cigarette. She took a long drag to relieve some of her nerves. "Where did you get the injuries?" She finally questioned, once again eying each bandage that was exposed: my arm & my leg mostly since the rest was hidden under the nurse's garb & the hight collar.

"One name that me & you know very well: Sullivan."

She stopped puffing on her cigarette in an instant. "_Sullivan_ did that to you?" I was a little shocked at the surprise in her voice, but then again it really shouldn't have surprised me since she was a woman living in Olympus Heights that knew little of what occurred down here outside of her little incursion with Sinclair some odd years ago & to see Sofia Lamb & mostly kept out of trouble to avoid being on Sullivan's radar.

"Right place, wrong time, as that case was."

"Why did-" Her voice cracked a bit. She cleared her throat to collect herself. "Why did Sullivan _torture_ you?"

"He thought I was a supporter of Atlas. Atlas was making on of his damn speeches outside." My arms waved around like Atlas did when I watched him from my apartment window. "Sullivan & his boys show up, next thing I knew I was strapped to a table with Sullivan playing 'carve the pumpkin' on my skin with a knife & he's asking me where Atlas is, which for once I don't know." I shrugged & played it off even if it still scratched at the back of my mind. I was foolish enough to get caught by Sullivan of all people despite how often I travel the air ducts & mingled among the upper class (reluctantly, but enough to make Sinclair happy).

We arrived at the front of the Artemis Suites & made our way up the stairs 2 stories. Camille looked around her with a small sense of nostalgia that I almost laughed at seeing just how far apart in the rungs of society we were: She looked at Artemis Suites with nostalgia & lived in Olympus Heights. I looked at the King Pawn with nostalgia & lived in the Artemis Suites. We came up to the door of my apartment & I gave a wry smile. "Home, sweet home." I unlocked the door & pushed it open, allowing her to enter first.

"Definitely different from when I lived here..." She muttered under her breath, her heels clicking against the floor as she made her way slowly into the apartment.

"It's home. This way," I led her over to the bookcase & pulled out the hollowed book from the shelf. I opened it up & pulled out the little reel that had caused this to happen.

"That's it? You're just giving it to me?" She asked, taking the reel from my hand & flipping if over for any damages.

"Just like that."

"You didn't copy it & turn it over to Sullivan?"

"I've already voiced my feelings on Sullivan once. I wouldn't wish him on my worst enemies. 'Sides, Sinclair would skin me if I did that."

Camille nodded & shifted nervously where she stood. "I should head home."

I nodded in agreement & led her to the door. "Good night, Miss Adler."

She gave me a slightly forced smile. "Good night, Hawkeye. Thank you for my tape back. Recover quick, you are not off the hook yet."

"I'd be disappointed if I wasn't. Word of advice: burn whatever tapes you made before you came to work for Sinclair, including that one. Burn anything indicating that you Sullivan _has_ been inside your apartment & he's itching to put you as a conspirator in Fontaine's smuggling ring. He wasn't too pleased about the brush offs & the vague answers you gave him." With a small swish of her pale yellow evening dress, she was down the stairs & out of sight. I closed the door & locked it again, resting my forehead against the cooled wood.

I never wanted to invite her into my apartment again...

I wandered my way into the bathroom to take a better look at the bandage around me leg where the crimson stain had gotten considerably bigger since Camille had pointed out that it was bleeding. I shook my head & unwrapped it slowly wincing as it tugged at the skin around the wound. "Thank you, Sullivan. If you die: remind me to tap dance on your grave," I growled to myself opening the medicine cabinet & pulling out a clean roll of bandages & a bottle of disinfectant left over from the numerous splicer attacks I endured. I bit down on my lip as I poured the disinfectant over the wound, ignoring the biting pain as best as I could as I started to slowly & tightly wrap the bandage around it. With a piece of tape & a cut from a pair of scissors I deemed it finished & went to check the rest.

The rest seemed fine from the movements thankfully except for the one around my forearm: the ATLAS carving. I stared at it for the longest time, debating whether or not to even unwind the bandage to change it. I didn't want to see it, see the reminder that it was the revolutionary's name carved into my arm over a misunderstanding with a man who resembled a snake in my eyes. I shook my head & left the items where they lie, making my way into the living room. I pulled my phone off the receiver & quickly said, "Hawkeye for Augustus Sinclair."

_"Sinclair_," He greeted happily.

"Augustus, it's Jamie."

_"Jamie! What can I do for you? Did Camille get what she came for?_"

"Yeah, yeah, she did. But I have a favor to ask."

"_Anythin' for you._"

"I... I need help on my bandages. Could you...?"

"_I'll be over inna few minutes, darlin'._"

"Thank you, Augustus." I gingerly set the phone back on the receiver & sighed. My hand had been shaking the whole time I was holding the phone, nervous about inviting Sinclair to my home when he was nice & toasty in his own, more than likely getting ready for a good night's sleep (as good as he could get since me & Camille were in each others' company alone without so much as a middle ground for us to stand up. I think we handled it pretty well).

About 10 minutes of pacing my sitting room I jumped to the door when I heard him knock. "I know the drill," He smiled & stepped inside, shutting it behind him & locking it for me. He was out of the clothes he wore earlier during our dinner & was now wearing a plain white long sleeve button up shirt & black trousers held up by his trademark overall straps. "You needed help?"

I nodded & held out my arm not giving it a glance in the slightest. He gave it a glance over before recognition came to him. "I see now." He smiled & took my hand in his. "C'mon."

He led me to my bathroom & sat me down on the toilet lid. "I can see your hesitation to look at it," He said unwrapping the bandage slowly. Finally, the letters were revealed & he clicked his tongue over it. "Gonna have to run that under the tap." He pulled my arm over to the sink & turned the faucet on, allowing hot water to wash over the slashes. My teeth gritted together at the heat, but made no noise to worry Sinclair. "There," He murmured examining it closely.

He took the bottle of disinfectant & a nearby clean rag, soaking a corner of it & dabbing it as gently as he felt necessary. I could see his head shake at the carving but stayed silent thankfully. "You did a brave thing, takin' Miss Camille here. You hate it when I come unannounced riskin' a splicer seein' me & you together."

"She had been drinking. I wasn't going to provoke an intoxicated woman."

"She was pretty sober when you left."

I shook my head & smiled. "Sometimes its nice to have a little change."

Sinclair smiled as well, his green eyes shimmering in my bathroom light. He finally wrapped the fresh bandage around my forearm & taped & cut it. "There. My best work, if I do say so myself." I stood up & got rid of the blood stained bandages.

We walked back into the sitting room & Sinclair helped himself to a cigarette, puffing contently. "Why are you so good to me?" I questioned out of no where. I didn't even think about it; just asked. 20 seconds of bravery it seemed.

"Why? Hm..." He mused, scratching at his chin. "I don't know. I treat you better than I do my own family. I must really like you then."

"Like me?"

"Maybe even love you, darlin'."

"Lo-?" I was cut off by his lips pressing to mine for what seemed like forever even when it was only a few seconds.

My one brief moment of happiness.

The calm before the storm.

December 15th, 1958


	20. Rapture Riot

Dymond: The final chapter before it becomes a fight to survive Rapture's war. Camille, Jamie, get ready for hell my dears!

On a further note: My mother is all moved in & I need a chiropractor or something because my spine is killing me. My knee is in a brace so I'm going to have a lot of time on my hands. The things I do for that woman... The couch I slept on is awesome, surprisingly. It's one of those that is in the shape of L & the backrest is entirely pillows. In love with the couch & I want one in my flat. Going to look into getting one cheap.

On a even further note: My faith in humanity was somewhat restored today. I was walking through Walmart & noticed a little boy standing in the toy isle while his mom was an isle over. He picked up a little toy that cost $5.99 tops. It was a girl's toy & I heard him ask his mom if they could get it for his sister for christmas which I thought was the sweetest thing ever. The mom flipped absolute shit on the boy, asking him where he was going to get the money to pay for it, if he was going to pay the bills & whatnot. I noticed that in her cart was about 4 cases of alcohol. If she took two of those out, for sure she'd have enough to help her son pay for a toy for her daughter for fucking christmas. Then a teenager, a skater kid, broke away from his little group of friends, pulled out his wallet & took $20 out & said, "Here you go, kid. Tell your sister Merry Christmas." He gave the kid's mom a middle finger & walked off to rejoin his friends.

Some faith in humanity restored.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~(Rapture)

_Dec 31st, 1958_

I still didn't know how I ended up walking around to several stores in Rapture with Camille Adler for the Masquerade Ball being thrown for the New Years Party. Sinclair's idea since he had received an invite to the New Year's Party & he found out I owned no mask whatsoever. He took it as a chance for the two of us to have a 'wonderful bonding moment' or some shit like that. If I didn't remotely love the man, I'd have called him a lunatic & went home, but I was his date as it were. I would have expected him to take Camille as his date, but I didn't question his judgement. So I went along with it, so did Camille & now we were walking at a respectable distance, together but apart, as we went store to store looking for a mask, dress, shoes, jewelry, etc. Camille found herself helping me more than she thought, once again being reminded that I was a little duct-rat from Pauper's Drop.

I had long since taken off the bandages covering my body, allowing them to scar over on their own & actively avoiding Steinman so I wouldn't get asked, yet again, if I would like cosmetic surgery to get rid of the scars. If there was anyone who scared me more than Fontaine, it was Steinman. The man had started to see 'Aphrodite' walking around from what Camille had talked about

It had been over a week since the kiss & I couldn't really decipher what we were exactly: boyfriend/girlfriend seemed too asinine given our ages (24, 44, respectively); lovers wasn't there either since we hadn't had sex yet, & it was too soon to be identified as a couple. I sure as hell wasn't his mistress. I wasn't his 'other half' & he wasn't mine... Or was he? Was I? We trusted each other inexplicably: I didn't question his business ethics & he didn't question my origins nor did he judge me like the others would. I smiled a lot more around him than I did Grace even & laughed more than I ever did in my whole life. Sinclair seemed to bring out the best in me. Isn't that what it means to be 'the other half'? It seemed right.

I jumped when a few dresses were shoved into my arms & Camille stood in front of me with her own small stack. "Try those on. They're the smallest size I could find." That was a little problem we've been dealing with since I was small & thin with very little for curves that most women had. Camille had called my body "the teenage body". Finding a dress for me was a little difficult & I had the notion to shout 'screw it' to the whole thing, but an urge to impress Sinclair overwhelmed the 'screw it' notion.

I sighed & went into a changing booth to try them on. It was a tedious repetition that Camille had been forcing me to go through more than likely for her own sick amusement of watching me squirm in a dress. Her face didn't betray that my train of thought was her reasoning for making me put on dress after dress, but I couldn't help but think it.

By the end of the whole tortuous experience, we both left the stores with a few bags in each hand & went our separate ways, Camille muttering something about an appointment.

I laid out the clothes on my bed once I got home. I took a long shower to scrub off the sweat & grime from working earlier this morning. I stepped out of the bathroom in undergarments that Camille had made me buy (something about proper etiquette or some such. Rich person thing, I passed it off as) with a towel wrapped around my hair & walked over to the bed. I slipped on the dress I had purchased, which was a solid dark purple evening gown with partial sleeves that hung off the shoulders. I picked up the next article of clothing: a pair of black gloves. I had only gotten them to cover up the carving on my wrist so I wouldn't receive that many stares aside from the scars on my shoulders & chest. Concealer would cover the ones on my face. The heels were a simple black & I skipped on jewelry despite Camille's crash-course lesson in 'Fashion of High Class Society Women'. I styled my hair in it's braid & finally slipped on my mask; my mask was black as well with purple feathers sticking out the right side.

I spun around at a knock on my bedroom door. Sinclair let out a breath he was holding as his eyes trailed me up & down. He was dressed in a custom fit tuxedo for the New Year's Party; black overcoat, white waist coat, white dress shirt, a white bow tie (slightly crooked), black trousers, & black polished leather shoes. His hair was slicked into it's normal style & dyed to be rid of the gray in his hair. His mask was black with gold figurines in the shape of mermaids decorating the top. All in all, he was handsome & a blush made it's way involuntarily to my face.

He took a few steps closer to me & said, "You look... beautiful, Jamie." I smiled genuinely.

"Thank you."

"Shall we?" He held out his arm for me to take.

The party was in full swing by the time we arrived, people in masks everywhere. Sinclair presented his invite to the man guarding the door who gave me the stink eye. "It's okay. She's with me," Sinclair reassured, patting the man's arm. The man stepped aside & allowed us to pass.

Streamers, partygoers, & posters decorated the whole Kashmir Restaurant in celebration for the New Year's Eve Party. Cohen fluttered about, accepting praise & admiration for his performances at the Fleet Hall. 3 of his disciples sat in a booth a little ways off, each looking tired & bored with their green & red bird masks resting on the table. Kyle looked like he was sporting a nasty shiner (fresh, like he was either punched earlier today or yesterday) that Hector was trying his best to cover up with concealer no doubt swiped from Anna Culpepper. Silas patted young Kyle's hand supportively shooting glares in Cohen's direction meaning it was Cohen who gave the boy the black-eye.

Sinclair pulled me toward the bar where he had spotted Miss Camille standing, sipping gently on her gin & tonic. "Camille!" Sinclair greeted heartily, placing a hand on her shoulder.

Camille gave us both a welcoming smile, the alcohol already setting in & easing her mood. She was wearing a long dark red gown, strapless & straight across with long white gloves covering her arms. Her mask was a white long nosed mask that reminded me of the Plague Doctors during the era of the Black Plague. What really caught me off guard was the bob cut she had done to her hair. It was nice, but a little alarming since I was used to her long blonde hair.

"Augustus," She nodded back. "Hawkeye."

"Camille."

"You missed the show. Mr. Fitzpatrick was amazing as always, Mr. Rodriguez as well. Mr. Cohen seemed less than pleased though. Poor kid got a fist," She explained, gesturing over to the disciples at the table. "Haven't seen Mr. Finnegan though..."

I couldn't bring myself to ruin her good mood by telling her that Martin Finnegan had been locked in a freezer only a few days prior when he openly called Cohen a sham.

Sinclair ordered us a round of drinks before going to converse with a client of his, leaving me & Camille alone. "I guess now I can question you properly without Augustus hovering over my shoulder," She smirked puffing on her cigarette.

"I suppose you can." Might as well get this over with or else she'd never stop asking.

"Start with the basics: How long have you been in Rapture?"

I quickly did the math in my head & answered, "10, almost 11 years."

"How long have you been working for Augustus?"

"5 years."

"How old are you?"

"24."

Camille looked a little confused then. "You look younger than 24."

"I'll take that as a compliment."

I sipped at whatever concoction Sinclair ordered for me & grimaced as it burned going down my throat. I set the glass down & pushed it away from me, leaning against the bar to look casual about it. Camille noticed the action & smirked. "Not a fan of whiskey?" She questioned taking the glass & swirling it around.

"Not one for alcohol."

"So it seems. Continuing on," She said tapping the end of her cigarette into an ash tray the bartender laid out for her. "Are you really an orphan?"

I shook my head. "I'd rather not say where my living relation is right now." Camille nodded & dropped the subject of my family. Knowing my mother, she was spreading her legs for a decreased rate since it _was_ New Years for some john. _So proud_! She's in Siren Alley & I'm standing in the biggest party of the year in the Kashmir. I hope my father is proud at least.

"How long have you been watching me?"

"3-4 years. Drove me up a wall. You're boring, you know that," I jested giving her a smirk.

Camille didn't find it as humorous. "Did you ever spy on Fontaine?"

"Hell no."

"No?"

I leaned closer to her. "There's a reason Fontaine is called the Bogeyman. I don't favor disappearing, Camille."

Camille's questions were cut short when the TVs around the area came to life revealing a gray screen, then flashing to a sign that said, "Please Stand By." The party fell silent as the bartenders & security called for their attention. The scene then flipped to Andrew Ryan standing in his office with a big glass of wine in his hand. "_Good evening, my friends_," He started off. "_I hope you are enjoying your New Year's Eve celebration. It has been a year of trials..._" Ryan looked down solemnly. "_For us all._" He perked up again. "_Tonight, I wish to remind each of you that Rapture is _your_ city. It was your strength of will that brought you here & with that strength, you shall rebuild. And so, Andrew Ryan offers you a toast._" He held up his glass of wine. "_To Rapture, 1959: may it be our finest year._" The transmission cut out & the noise started up again.

"Finest year, my ass," Camille muttered taking another drink.

An explosion suddenly went off raining debris & bodies around them. Screams of the partygoers deafened the room as Splicers poured into the room, fireballs, ice chucks, & lightning bolts flying around the room. "Long live Atlas!" Some shouted as they struck down several guests.

"Death to Ryan!" Others shouted.

"Shite!" I cursed, reaching down & ripping my dress apart at the knees for more mobility. "Camille! Let's go!" I grabbed her wrist, pulling he toward me. She quickly grabbed her purse & allowed me to lead her through the scrambling crowd of people, ducking occasionally as bullets joined the plasmids. I quickly spotted Sinclair trying to push his way through the crowd toward us. "Augustus!" I called, holding out my hand for him.

He grabbed a hold of it tightly & pulled me & Camille closer to him. "What's going on?!" Camille nearly screeched grabbing my shoulder & shaking it.

"Hell if I know!" I shouted back. "But we have to get the bloody _Hell _out of here!"

We tried our hardest to push our way to the door through the mob of frantic people & violent splicers. Sinclair let out a yelp when a bullet grazed his arm. "Augustus! You all right?" I questioned giving his arm a quick once over. It didn't look that deep, but I still worried.

He shrugged me off & said, "I'll be fine. Let's get out of here!"

I screamed involuntarily when a Splicer came seemingly out of nowhere & tackled me, trying to beat my head in with his pipe. A single gunshot to the head took him down & I looked up at my savior: Camille Adler; her hand visibly shaking with the revolver clasped desperately in it. I shoved the dead body off my person & stood up. "Camille?" I questioned, gently placing my hand on top of the revolver & pushing it down.

"I-I... He was... I just shot him..." She was a mild state of shock from having actually killed somebody.

I didn't dare try & wrench the gun from her death grip & just let her hang on to it. "I know. I thank you. He would have killed me if you hadn't shot him. But we have to run! Now!" I ordered looking back at the riot occurring in our wake.

We had made it to the foyer when more splicers descended upon us, laughing maniacally at our desperation to escape. "Where do ya tink you're goin' li'l fish?" They grabbed at Camille & myself tearing at our dresses as they went.

Sinclair tried to fight them off, but was quickly shoved away & caught in the current of people escaping the Kashmir.

When one went for the zipper of Camille's dress, I planted a well placed kick to his temple, sending him over the railing. "You will not touch her!" I shouted throwing my head back, smashing in my captor's nose. The reaction was instant & my arms were free again. I spun around & jumped on the splicer's back, grabbing a hold of his chin. With a twist, his neck broke & he was down for the count.

"Dat bitch killed Unger!" Another splicer screeched, their attention no longer on Camille, but to me. Didn't think this one through...

I ducked from a wild swing of a pipe & smashed the palm of my hand upward to his chin, knocking the splicer back, but the victory was short-lived as another grabbed my arms & pulled them back. Suddenly I loved heels: the heel of my shoe stabbed down on his foot eliciting a sharp scream of pain. I grabbed his shirt quickly & threw him over the railing to fall to his death. I smirked triumphantly at my victory.

A pipe connected with the back of my head & went down hard, my vision going black.

"Hawkeye!" Camille cried out, her revolver pointed at the last Splicer standing. She fired 3 shots consecutively, each making their mark, the last a kill shot. She stuffed the gun into her purse & rushed over to where I lay, flipping me over on to my back. "Oh god... Hawkeye! Come on! Wake up! Don't be dead."

I gave a small moan but otherwise didn't wake up. Camille glanced around for any sign of Sinclair, before reaching for my arm. She pulled it over her shoulders & did her best to lift me up to drag me out. "Thank god you're tiny," She muttered, pulling me towards the elevators.

The riots had made its way out of the Kashmir & into the rest of Rapture it seemed since everywhere Camille went, she was met with fighting & people dying. With luck, she had made it to the Sinclair Tower & to Sinclair's office where she found him pacing the length of his office frantically. "Camille!" He exclaimed in relief before his eyes fell to me. "Jamie!" He rushed over & helped Camille set me on the couch.

"Jamie?"

"I'll explain later. Can you please get me some bandages? Water? Something to stop her head from bleedin'," He urged feeling the back of my head for any sign of my skull being fractured. "We'll have to get her to Steinman-"

"No Steinman," I moaned. "Just need rest."

Sinclair smiled & brushed my bangs out of the way of my face. "Stubborn as always."

My hand reached for his arm which was still bleeding despite the rush patchwork he did on it. "This'll need stitches."

"I'll get stitches if you get your head checked out."

"Just no Steinman."

"No Steinman," Sinclair agreed helping me to my feet. Camille took my other arm & both helped me to the bathysphere to head to the Medical Pavilion


	21. Rapture War

Dymond: Another chapter. Only a few more before Jack makes an appearance. Trying to figure out if Camille or Jamie or both end up interacting with Jack. Actually: Camille for sure will have a run in with Jack. Jamie may stay in the background, watching his progress to see if he'll succeed in killing Andy Ryan. That'd be a complete mind fuck for Camille seeing Jack all grown up & gunning down splicers. And I do love torturing the girls... It's an idea. Will converse with CS about it later. But for now: The fabulous year of 1959 where shit hits the fan & Rapture is unable to duck!

My reviews jumped from 4 to 9 in the span of 24 hours. That escalated quickly.

Well, you know the drill, rate, review & love or hate, would you kindly?

Edit: Totally listened to Icarus from the Deux Ex Machima soundtrack while posting this. Felt badass!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~(Rapture)

If I had a glass of wine, I'd hold it up in a toast: To Rapture, 1959: may it be the year we all successfully drown, freeze, set on fire, maim, & kill each other.

The prognosis of my consultation from the mouth of Dr. Andrews & a dumbed down version later from Sinclair after I had awoken a day later (they gave me the good drugs, you know, the kind that make you feel like you're on Cloud 9): concussion, mild fractures to my skull but nothing life threatening, & I should experience headaches which is to be expected. They want me to stay in Medical Pavilion for a few days to monitor my brain's activity & to see if I experience any amnesia from the blunt force trauma & to monitor for swelling. At least that was the gist of what I think Dr. Andrews was explaining to me. The medical terminology was a bit more impressive than 'monitor' & 'swelling'.

Medical red tape for an even simpler definition.

I was changed out of my torn dress, gloves, underwear & stockings into a simple medical gown & my belongings put in a bag beside my bed during my state of unconsciousness (except for the dress which was promptly disposed of by a nurse since the dress was ripped & unwearable). When I had awoken, I was cold & my medical dress/robe was hanging half off my shoulder & Sinclair was sitting in the chair beside the bed with a newspaper in his hands not at all paying attention to my wardrobe malfunction.

Sinclair left me the newspaper to see what had occurred in these few days after the New Year's Eve Riots when he departed for a meeting with Ryan.

_Attack of the Parasite Atlas!_

Sounded like the name of a horror movie from the surface.

It was a continuous war as the armies of Atlas & the armies of Ryan battled in the streets. The disenfranchised citizens in support of Atlas were also finding ways to take down the Big Daddies to get at the Little Sisters for the ADAM slugs in their stomachs. Even with the new & improved Big Daddies making their way to the streets (Bouncers & Rosies, they were called), it didn't deter Atlas' forces from taking them down; the protectors not enough to keep them from abducting the gatherers. They were brought down like elephants by a pack of hyenas. Ryan responded by having the newspapers label Atlas a 'child killer' along with other propaganda like him being a parasite among the most common of phrases.

The Kashmir was officially shut down from the damages of the splicers & bombings & some minor flooding of the lower levels. Ryan Amusements was also hit, cutting it off from Rapture. People were still trapped inside, but Ryan didn't seem to care about getting them out, only about Atlas. Bigger & better plasmids were hitting the markets for weapons that the people could use to defend themselves (an add from Sinclair Solutions called it the Home Consumer Rewards Program).

I set the newspaper down when I heard a small knock on my door. "Come in!" I called out, folding the paper in half & setting it on the rolling table beside the bed. I was shocked to see Camille pop her head in. "Camille? You just missed lunch... actually that might be a good thing."

"Glad to see you're awake," She said, carefully stepping into the room.

I could immediately see the purplish bruises on her arms from where the splicers had grabbed her, squeezing tightly to prevent her escape. She was wringing the straps of her purse nervously like she was about to confess to murder or something, looking at everything else but me. Killing those splicers didn't count since that was an act of self-defense so if she was here to call herself a killer: _I'd_ kill her.

"Yeah, well, the drugs keep me under most of the time," I shrugged leaning back against the propped up pillows. "I don't even know why I'm still here."

Camille eyes fell to me finally & she smiled a bit. "Because you need your rest. You did take a pipe to the back of the head, after all."

I shrugged again, pinching unconsciously at the thin, scratchy sheets covering my lower body. Camille walked calmly over to the chair Sinclair had pulled up that morning & took a seat, shifting to get comfy. "I... I wanted to thank you - for doing what you did back at the Kashmir. I don't think we would have made it to the door if you hadn't been there."

My eyebrow cocked curiously at the thank you. Camille Adler, the woman who I'm pretty sure has had it out for me since day one: was thanking me. Commit this date to memory & nationalize it. But I couldn't take all the credit; I wasn't that egotistical. "I should be thanking you too, I guess. You did pull my unconscious body out of there. You had every right to just leave me there, but you didn't." I paused for a second. "_Why?_"

Camille shrugged a little. "Augustus would have skinned me if I didn't." She mimicked my own words. She bit her bottom lip, kneading it between her teeth. She asked, "Could I see your arm?" I knew which arm she meant. I tucked my left arm against my abdomen to hide the carving. "Please, Jamie."

My eyes snapped to her face. She knew my name? Sinclair... he let it slip in a state of worry. _Oh Lord, Jamie_ he had said. I couldn't exactly reprimand him for letting it slip since he _was_ worrying over my welfare & wasn't thinking straight.

I looked her over cautiously for any sign of ill-intent, but found nothing; just a mild concern & a curiosity. Why she wanted to see the carving on my arm I'll never know, but reluctantly I extended my arm for her to see. The immediate reaction from her was a sharp gasp. Her fingers lightly traced the letters, as if feeling was believing. "I can see why you wanted long gloves now..." She said absentmindedly. "Did Augustus see this?"

I nodded. "Who do you think came & got me out of there? If no one came: Sullivan would have killed me. Just like Timmy H." She let my arm drop. I rubbed at the raised skin lightly, the bumps sending horrific flashbacks to that moment in time. I wasn't planning on sleeping anyway.

"Timmy H?"

I shook my head. "No one you know. He was a small time smuggler working for Fontaine."

Camille's eyes widened. "He..."

"Sullivan took him in to find out anything he can about Fontaine. Didn't get much."

"How did he... _die_?"

"You don't want to know." I could still smell the burnt flesh, hear Timmy's screams from the air vent. I was surprised Timmy lasted as long as he did, telling Sullivan to go fuck his mother every chance he could get a breath.

Camille nodded & leaned back in the seat, running a hand through her bob cut.

We both looked to the door when we heard another knock & Sinclair let himself in. "Oh, I didn't realize you were here as well," He said to Camille with a grin. He leaned out the door again & called to a nurse, "Can I get another chair? Thank you, doll." He straightened up again. "How are you feelin'?"

Camille smiled back. "I'm okay. Just a little banged up."

Sinclair nodded & said, "That's great. Don't need both of you in Medical."

A nurse scooted past him with a chair clenched in her hands. She set it down besides the bed & departed, Sinclair giving her a small thanks. He sat down & gave me a warm smile making me blush a little. "And how are you feelin'?"

"The medical gibberish was more impressive, but from what I understood: I'll live."

"You had me worried, like always."

Camille snorted in a mild teasing matter. "Worried? You've been pacing your office for the past two days." Her hand went to mouth, trying miserably to control the bubbling laughter. Sinclair just grinned, being able to take jokes about him pretty well (including the 'tubs' joke that had started to spring up).

I laughed a little as well, noting Camille's mild shock at hearing me laugh. "Augustus, you don't have to worry. They said everything looks good. I should be out of here by tomorrow."

"And I can't take your word for that," He grinned. "I'm gonna ask your doctor about that."

Camille glanced at the clock on the wall & stood up. "I'm sorry, I have a meeting to attend. I will see you back at the office, Augustus," She said giving us a small wave. I nodded towards her for my own form of goodbye. She disappeared behind the door, leaving it a little open.

Sinclair quickly leaned over & placed a small, affectionate kiss on my lips. "Jamie, Jamie, Jamie. You're makin' me grow gray hair," He stated sitting back down. He took my hand in his own & gave it a squeeze.

I smiled. "You sure that you're not just getting old?"

He shook his head at the jab & glanced at the door. He dug into his jacket pocket & pulled out a cigarette, perching it between his lips. "You shouldn't smoke in here. Doc gets mad." Sinclair smirked, but lit up his cigarette anyways.

"Doctors get mad easily," He jested, using an empty cup as an ashtray.

I shook my head, the smile growing. "I would have thought you'd have a business deal to take care of, especially since Ryan's been raging on you for test subjects."

Sinclair puffed contently on his cigarette & leaned back in his seat, blowing the stream of smoke up. "Why would I be there when my girl is in Medical?"

My eyebrow raised at the statement. "'Your girl'?" I repeated, my voice softer than I was used to.

Sinclair grinned, his emerald eyes sparkling under the florescent lights. "Of course. I told you before: I love you. And I still love you despite your avoidance to emotional attachment." His thumb traced over my slightly torn up knuckle from the various punches I had thrown to splicers.

I half-heartdly glared at him for the stab at one of my personality flaws, but didn't say anything to retaliate.

The nurse came in after a few minutes of comfortable silence, shooting a glare towards Sinclair for the cigarette but said nothing. She handed me a small paper cup with my daily dose of medications to keep the pain away & a cup of water. The drugs would ultimately knock me out cold, so Sinclair placed one last kiss on my lips & left to return to the Sinclair Tower.

In a swift motion, I tossed the pills into my mouth & swallowed them down with a gulp of water, grimacing at the taste of the capsules.

I laid back on the pillow, staring up at the ceiling tiles. I wasn't surprised Augustus came to visit, but Camille? I would dare say that she was coming around to tolerating me (not yet to befriending, lets not get ahead of ourselves). I couldn't say I liked her, but I could say I respected her & sometimes that's better than liking. I glanced over at the seat she was sitting at & noticed she had forgotten her purse. There is no way that she'd forget her purse here, especially since it still contained the revolver inside from the bulky shape of the fabric. I snatched it up & stuffed it under the pillow so that the doctors & nurses wouldn't see it & think I'm a lunatic with a gun. _That'd_ go well. Camille would return for it eventually.

"Yes, Aphrodite, it is as you said!" I shot up in bed at Steinman's familiar voice. "She will be beautiful! Perfect!" I knew he was a nut case, but he really was seeing Aphrodite walking around? A cosmetic surgeon who is hallucinating, possibly (definitely) gone mad was still able wander the halls with a scalpel in hand & a shit-eating grin on his face without someone revoking his medical license?

My breath quickened when his voice came closer to my door, my heart thundering in my chest. "With ADAM the flesh becomes _clay_. What excuse do I have not to sculpt & sculpt & sculpt until the job is done," He giggled maniacally under his breath.

I let out the breath I was holding when he walked past my door & didn't enter. Steinman was clearly insane & people still flocked to him to get their faces sliced by a scalpel for a _look_ of beauty? I was happy with my looks, even the ATLAS carving on my arm as long as it kept me away from Steinman's scrutinizing gaze.


	22. Rapture Exodus

Dymond: Another chapter! How does this happen? Oh yeah: the days are dwindling down to the day I leave for Basic Training. I'm excited, but scared. But none of that for now.

On another note: I got back from the chiropractor. Never have I felt this good in a long time! The way he cracks my neck though still scares the piss out of me every single time.

For now, enjoy the story.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~(Rapture!)

Dr. Andrews held up a few X-ray scans they had done of my head, examining the cracks in the back of my skull with a careful & trained eye. "Well, everything seems to be healing nicely. I'm going to have the nurse write up a prescription for the pain killers we've been giving you. I suggest plenty of rest & drink plenty of fluids. No extensive physical activity. I also recommend placing an ice pack to the back of your head for an hour every night before you go to sleep."

I nodded & glanced down at the bag Sinclair had put together at my request. Dr. Andrews left me for privacy in the room after having me sign the release papers. I stripped off the hospital gown & quickly changed into the familiar fabric of one of my plain white shirts & dark trousers, smiling slightly. I never wanted to put a dress on for as long as I lived, not even if Augustus asked nicely.

I exited my room & made my way to the front desk to get the prescription Dr. Andrews mentioned. On the way out, I made a quick phone call to Sinclair to inform him that I was heading straight home for a much needed sanity check from being in Medical too long.

My release from the Medical Pavilion was both a blessing & a nightmare.

Weeks trudged on by as life in Rapture spiraled downhill into a canyon of sharp, jagged rocks. For every one normal human being, there were 10 splicers - Everyone lining up down the block for plasmids to protect themselves, creating new weapons like grenade launchers & chemical throwers & makeshift defensive turrets & security bots. Building interiors were being destroyed, Big Daddies roamed around with a Little Sister (a lot of new ones, children I almost recognized from the Drop), stores were closing left & right, locking down their doors to prevent any attacks on their businesses. Arcadia had been closed for the safety of the citizens when a Houdini Splicer commune showed up, calling themselves 'The Saturnine'. Cohen locked the doors to Fort Frolic, trapping his disciples inside as well for their own personal slices of pure Hell at the hands of the lunatic artist; if they were alive, only God would know. Medical Pavilion was flooded with security, trying to get at Steinman who had locked himself in Aesthetic Ideals after he butchered his patient & his assistant. Dionysus Park had been flooded in some sort of freak accident, killing everyone trapped inside. A flaw in the drainage system they had said or a clumsy Big Daddy bumped into it as "Big Kate" O'Malley suggested.

Lamb had escaped Persephone during the riots & had retaken her daughter from Delta, forcing him to kill himself in the process with an experimental plasmid called the Hypnotize Plasmid - his body was still decaying on the floor in the Adonis. Brigid Tenenbaum disappeared without a trace with at least a dozen Little Sisters from Point Prometheus; "biting the company hand" as it was. Ryan locked himself in his offices in Hephaestus earning the insulting nickname "Hephaestus Hermit".

They had put a lockdown on the poorer areas of Rapture, but I knew the master code from watching Sullivan punch it in repeatedly. Otherwise, it was easy to hack the security systems from a test run on one in the Atlantis Express Maintenance in the back storage room. I could no longer return to my home just by walking through Apollo Square anymore, not with the guards surrounding the prison camp set up around the gallows holding everyone in support of Atlas & other law breakers. If the smell was bad before, it smelled worse now with the stench of body odor, blood & decay from the corpses rotting in the streets, on the gallows & in the cells.

Often times, I avoided Apollo Square & opted to spend my nights on the King Pawn sign or _very_ rarely at Grace's apartment in the Sinclair Deluxe. Sinclair had offered that I stay with him in his apartment, but the idea was too much out of my comfort zone. I loved Sinclair, yes, but it was too soon to start spending my nights in his apartment alone together.

The people were in a panic to try & escape the city in a mass exodus, but Ryan locked down the bathysphere transport to the lighthouse. People gathered outside of the docking bay with picket signs & their suitcases, some offering large sums of money to the security guards, others trying to beat their way to the sub, but Ryan's security held them back beating the ones who got to close with a baton. I had contemplated joining them, but even with the money I had accumulated over the years I wouldn't have had a chance to get on the bathysphere. If I was to drown with the city, then so be it.

With the death toll in the city racking up, there was one person I had to know was alive or dead. Siren Alley fared no better than the rest of Rapture, but some of the stores were still open like the Mermaid Lounge, but I wasn't here for a drink or to gamble away my money. The sign for the Pink Pearl came into view & I stopped in my tracks. Did I really feel concerned enough for my own good-for-nothing mother to attempt to make sure she was still alive? I wasn't taking ADAM, but I must have gone mad to be able to step through the doors. My back pressed against the wall at the decimated Big Daddy laying on the ground in front of the support pillar, bodies of splicers pinned to the walls by spears (one_ attractively_ pinned to the wall by a spear through her mouth). I slipped carefully around them & continued on, forcing the image out of my mind. The splicer woman pinned to the support beam in the middle of the room did little to help me forget.

I was starting to regret coming here, but I had to know if she was still alive. I walked swiftly past the sleeping door guard & looked around at the damage the Pearl had seen from the war, but that didn't deter the girls from putting themselves up for sale. There were more girls here than before, meaning the women were getting desperate in trying to survive in the city & to get more ADAM from the scars I had seen on various women as I passed by. I finally arrived at my mother's designated room & entered without a second thought. My hand flew to my nose at the smell of death & I broke into a sprint to the bedroom, skidding to a stop in the doorway. My mother was dead, numerous needles littering her arm; overdose on drugs. Rupert Grinchaw was laying dead as well in front of the bed, but his brain was crushed in from the pipe laying next to him. Daniel must have been angry that he killed one of his girls & killed Rupert in a fit of anger: a fitting end for someone like Rupert.

I was vaguely away of Connie Boswell crooning from the record player, the record skipping a little from the angle the record player was sitting at. I took careful steps towards the bed & my mother's body like I was afraid she was going to get up again & smack me for letting her die. It wasn't my fault, but I knew that's what she'd say to me. When she didn't move as my imagination predicted, I pulled the purple sheet out from under her body & draped it carefully over her naked body for some sort of decency. I turned my attention to the phonograph, but an Accu-Vox caught my attention. It was sitting on the table, not even hidden from sight like I would have done. I shook my head & walked over, picking it up.

I pressed play & waited. _"Sure, I've had some Johns in my time & they've all got their kinks,_" I hear my mother's voice come through, a little wistful. "_but I think Rupert beats all. Keeps wanting me to splice up 'in the act'... says it'll heighten if for the both of us._" Dusky laughed on the tape & continued, "_I said honey, I ain't doing it for the heights, I'm doing it for the scratch. Besides, Danny would have a fit if I started needling. He does it himself, of course. But what's good for the gander gets the goose thrown off the Drop!_" The recording ended.

I threw it back down on the table in disgust. My mother's last recorded words & she talks about Rupert? What had I hoped for? A reconcile for all the things she done to me or saying that maybe she did love me? I still didn't even know why I came here. Seeing that she was dead, I couldn't really say I was happy, but I wasn't exactly crying about it either. I flipped off the phonograph & sighed. With one more look back at my mother I left the room, stuffing my hands in my pockets. I guess the reason I wanted to see if my mother was still alive was because I wanted something familiar to remain still in this quickly deteriorating city called Rapture. Even if my mother was a whore, she had been a whore since I was young & hadn't changed at all. And now she was gone, along with anything connecting me to my past, to that scared little girl living with her mother & her dead father's parents.

I was in the vents before I could break down yet again on that couch by the stairs, crawling in the direction of the Sinclair Tower.

Sinclair wasn't in his office when I arrived & I laid on the couch that he had officially dubbed "Jamie's Couch" in a joke with Camille which I overheard. Speaking of Camille, I didn't hear her shuffling around in her office like normal. I sat up & stared at the wall separating Sinclair's office & her own, listening for any sign that she was inside. It wasn't that late in the day from what I could tell (4:30 pm) & Sinclair didn't inform me of any meetings they had (only a small one with Gil Alexander, but he'd be able to handle that). I stood up & made my way out of Sinclair's office. Camille's door was locked like she hadn't been in there all day. She wasn't sick that much I knew for sure & she never just skipped work without a say-so from Sinclair. I didn't see her when I scouted out the bathysphere port heading for the lighthouse. Something didn't sit right in the pit of my stomach.

Only one thought dance across my mind & I made a dash for the tram station to head to her apartment in Olympus Heights. I had hoped it was my mind sending off in a paranoid state of mind & that she would be in her apartment safe & sound.

_Sullivan_.

If that rat bastard even laid a single finger on her, he will have nowhere to hide. I've taken down splicers: what's one man who finds it great fun to tie down women & slice them up, making them scream or god knows what he's doing to Camille if he has her.

Slipping into an air vent in main courtyard of Olympus Heights, I slipped easily into her apartment & quickly spotted her cat laying on the floor, gargling & moaning in a desperate attempt to breathe. Her little legs were bent at odd angles, the bones clearly broken & her fur was matted with blood. Someone had stomped on the poor creature in a fit of anger which automatically ruled out Camille herself - she loved that cat to death. I knelt down next to the poor creature & lightly petted the top of its head, giving it some form of comfort until if finally stopped gurgling & ultimately stopped breathing. Camille's revolver laid under a nearby end table, all six bullets accounted for when I picked it up. A small puddle of blood caught my eye next close to the door - the only clear sign of struggle aside from the now dead cat & the dropped gun.

I walked to her bedroom & found her leather suitcase open on the bed, stuffed with clothes & a few records. She was planning to leave as well, but obviously something stopped her from making the trip to the bathysphere port like everyone else. I went back to the dead cat & noticed something under the little body. A business card for Security Chief Sullivan that I knew Camille would never keep in her life. I crushed the bloodied card & threw it against the ground.

Sullivan was a dead man


	23. Rapture Nightmare

Dymond: Another chapter! Woohoo! I leave for Basic Training in 5 days so the clock is ticking! Oh nos! Trying to at _least_ get Jack in this before I leave, maybe a little something-something between Jamie & Sinclair (deciding what is the hard part). My sleep pattern is FUBAR, it's almost funny. I really should sleep more (I get maybe 4-5 hours of sleep every night. living on a farm does that to you). Oh well! And yes, Sullivan is biting the bullet in this chapter. I know it's said that he commits suicide, but... that just seems lame. For a guy that has tortured & killed how many people & he just offs himself. So, there will be a little change up. Fly, little moths, fly!

Jamie: If you even dare go Cohen on me, Sullivan will not be the only person who dies tonight.

I would also like to thank the lovely CaliforniaStop for reviewing. Also to Steve Laststand despite your mantra of 'good chapter now would you kindly update this'. Tenenbaum gave me the antidote! I update on my own because a woman choses, a slave obeys! And to whoever Guest was for staying up all night reading this in one shot. Makes me smile when I hear that.

On a random note: I wrote this out while watching the Hunchback of Notre Dame. Watching Disney movies while writing about a murder. I'm not crazy at all.

Review, rate, favorite, would you kindly?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~(Rapture!)

My hand covered my mouth at the amount of blood coating the tools & table in the small interrogation room. It hadn't been all that difficult to find after I had left Camille's apartment -her gun & a kitchen knife tucked away on my person-, I just followed the smell of blood the moment I hit Neptune's Bounty. The room itself stunk of blood, burnt flesh, sweat & urine that almost made me gag in response; solid concrete walls surrounding the room making screaming for help near impossible; a single lightbulb hung overhead illuminating the room like something out of a horror film. White powder covered a portion of the floor & it only took me a moment to realize that it was cocaine; Camille's cocaine. His link to her being involved with Fontaine's smuggling ring. It looked almost like the room I had been locked in when Sullivan had 'interrogated' me with the exception that there was no chair & the table was cut out to be able to strap someone down with their arms spread apart. Sullivan's carryall was still sitting on the table with the tools scattered across it, each tool with its own set amount of drying blood: a police baton, handcuff, a large pliers, a hammer, a few rusty nails & a serrated knife. I picked up the knife carefully before dropping it like it had burned me. It may not have been the knife Sullivan had used on me, but it still brought back those memories.

An Accu-Vox caught my attention, but all I could do was stare at it. I knew exactly what was on it & quite frankly, I couldn't bring myself to hear Camille scream just for the sake of my own curiosity. To hear her scream for help, scream of her innocence in whatever Sullivan was interrogating her about, scream in pure agony. Looking for hope but finding she had fled.

I picked up a little silver lighter that I had seen Camille use before, bloodied finger prints staining the metal casing. I diligently wiped it clean on my trousers & stuffed it in my pocket. The last item I picked up was a gold fob watch with the small carving of _F.F_ on the back. It was Frank Fontaine's fob watch which made me wonder why Camille had it. If anything, this little trinket should still be in his penthouse or in Ryan's personal trophy collection along with the bodies starting to decorate the walls of the atrium leading to his office. But here it was, glittering in what little light the room possessed. It had been polished repeatedly from the looks of it showing that it was obviously taken care of by Camille. I shook my head & tucked the large fob watch into my trousers pocket. I turned to the door & froze, seeing the door handle turn.

The gun was quickly in my hand, as was the knife. The door swung open & in stepped the rat in his prime, still sweaty from his session with Camille no doubt evident from the yellow armpit stains in his white shirt. "Wha' the-" He started taking a step back. In his hands was another Accu-Vox tape: he was planning to continue his torture of Camille. But Camille was gone meaning she had somehow escaped, something I would look into later

I had no idea where the mentality of sadistic rage came from, but I grabbed the hem of Sullivan's shirt & pulled him roughly into the room using my foot to kick the door shut behind us.

In a moment of pure adrenaline & upper body strength, I had lifted the rat-man off the ground long enough to slam his back on the table, his shoulder blade digging into the pliers in his way. He let out a loud yelp from the pliers digging into his back & swung a fist in my direction. In one swift movement, the knife was imbedded in his glove-covered hand & stabbing clear through his flesh to the table, keeping him pinned in place. He let out a blood-curdling scream from impact, staring at his pinned hand wide-eyed like a fish staring up at a fisherman. I took the new reel from his hand & moved to the Accu-Vox. "Protocol," I mimicked his sessions with every one of his victims & me. I ejected the tape with Camille's interrogation on it & popped in the new tape, hitting record. "Interrogation of Sullivan, Chief of Security for Andrew Ryan. Reprisal conducted by Hawkeye." I set the tape next to the Accu-Vox & moved over to where Sullivan was trying in vain to pull out the knife.

I grabbed his other wrist & slammed it down on the table, snatching up the serrated knife he had used on Camille. "I hope this hurts," I grinned, stabbing the blade through his hand & pinning it to the table. His scream nearly deafened me, but I shrugged it off, shaking my head to rid myself of the ringing. "Is this what you did to Camille Adler? I saw the nails & the hammer. Did you pin her hands to the table? Just like this?" I shifted the knife, earning a pained gasp from the man whose sweating had increased.

"S-Stop!" Sullivan begged trying to shift without moving the knives -which failed.

"Not so fun now when the shoe is on the other foot," I hissed in his ear pulling out the revolver again. I clicked open the cylinder & pulled out all 6 bullets, stuffing five of them in my pocket holding up one. "Pray to whoever you worship, Sullivan." I pushed the bullet into a slot & gave the cylinder a spin before snapping it shut. "Here's what I'm going to do, Sullivan," I announced, voice loud. I paced around his pinned form much like a vulture, just like he did to me when he chose a place to slice open. "I'm going to pull the trigger four times. If the bullet doesn't come out after four clicks... Well, we'll have to get there first, won't we?" I stopped pacing when I was directly behind him on the other side of the table. "As much as I would love to just carve you up just like you did to me: I don't have that kind of time."

I pressed the barrel against the back of his skull, pulling back the hammer. "Number 1," I said aloud for the Accu-Vox. Without a second though, I pulled the trigger. A click came through, but no bullet. Regardless, Sullivan flinched earning another pained yell when he pulled on the knives. If the bullet didn't kill him, for sure the blood-loss & shock would. I just had to keep in from going into shock until I pulled the trigger four times.

"I'll see you hung, whore!" Sullivan roared at me suddenly finding a brief moment of energy. The hammer was drawn back again & the trigger pulled. Another click. If Sullivan was sweaty before, he was sweating bullets now. He screamed every insult he could think of under the sun, "slum-rat" being the kindest.

I faced the gallows with the murder of Sullivan, but quite frankly: I didn't care. I wanted the nightmares to stop, for the torture of others to stop, for the fear of Sullivan to stop. This may help Atlas in the long run, but I wasn't thinking of Atlas right now: I was thinking of how I could make this man hurt like nothing he's ever felt before.

I waltzed around the table again until I was standing in front of him again. "Keep screamin', Sullivan! Jus' like everyone who 'as passed through this room, through _any_ interr'gation room set up." The British accent pouring through uncontrollably. The gun pressed again his forehead. Another click & still no bullet. "Lucky so far, Sullivan. Wha's the chance of this next pull bein' the bullet?"

He spat in my face forcing me to look away & wipe away the saliva with my bloodstained sleeve leaving a smear across my cheek. "Fuck you, whore! Fuck you! I shoulda killed you when I had you on that table: screamin' for God. You wanna know how Camille screamed? Bitch couldn't even breathe properly. Such a pretty thing she was, screamin' for me to stop." The ATLAS carving burned furiously at the reminder of my night spent with Sullivan.

I sneered dangerously & pulled the trigger again. The bullet shot out of the cylinder tearing through Sullivan's skull in an instant silencing him forever. My breath came in short gasps as Sullivan slumped back against the table, the gun held in a death grip. The ATLAS carving burned like nothing before; the only thing I felt in my numb body. Sullivan was gone for good. Vengeance was mine for everyone who had suffered under Ryan's attack dog.

My hand fell to the fob watch bulging in my pocket. I had to find Camille seeing as she wasn't here when both me & Sullivan arrived. Shaking my head of what had just happened, I walked around Sullivan's body & hit the eject on the Accu-Vox. This was the only proof that I had been here, that I was the one who had murdered Sullivan & that proof would stay with me, along with Camille's interrogation tape. For her own dignity, only she would listen to the tape when she had the will to listen, not even my ears would hear it. Even if she allowed me, I don't think I'd be _able_ to listen so I was thankful she didn't trust me enough to listen in.

I tucked both tapes into my pants pockets, the gun stuffed into the waistline of my pants & left the room heading for the air vent before anyone came running over hearing the gunshot. List of places shot through my head to where Camille would have run off too in order to escape. From the amount of blood I had seen in that room there was no way Camille was walking out of here without help, but Sinclair was still in his meeting according to the clock in the hallway. And Sullivan would not make the mistake twice to send someone to get Sinclair especially for Camille Adler, ex-secretary for Fontaine.

I smacked my forehead when it became obvious: Atlas. A raid on Sullivan's interrogation rooms, finding Camille, taking her back to his hideout where ever the hell that was. Atlas was an unknown variable in this equation being all over the board when it came to things. He was the best thing to happen to the disenfranchised people of Rapture, but he was also the worst. This had turned into a game of cat & mouse, one that I was not going to lose. Atlas was a man who knew how to hide, but I knew how to find them. All it would take was one of Atlas' splicers to screw up & I'd have him in the palm of my hand, along with Camille.

I couldn't walk around covered in Sullivan's blood though, I'd see the gallows before I could even begin my search for Camille. I contemplated sending a message to Sinclair informing him of the situation, but decided against it. Knowing him, he wouldn't tell anyone about it & if Ryan _did_ look into who exactly murdered Sullivan, that note would become evidence & make Sinclair an accomplice in a death he had no part of. And I wouldn't want him to find out yet until I had Camille out of harms way.

I quickly changed my shirt to a dark blue colored shirt once I was safe inside my apartment, no one noticing the bloodstains on my clothes thankfully or if they did they paid it no heed since bloodstains seem to be the new accessory to the lower class population. The shirt was promptly disposed of in a bag to be thrown in a burn barrel the residents had set up. I washed away the blood smeared across my cheek & glanced at myself in the mirror noting the dark marks under my eyes. I hadn't had a proper sleep in months, the nightmares plaguing my mind as Sullivan's face was twisted into something of a demon clawing away at my flesh. The ATLAS carving no longer burned like it recognized that Sullivan could no longer touch me, could no longer touch anyone else other than the undertaker if Ryan even bothered. More than likely he wouldn't. It would only take Ryan one look at the scene to condemn Atlas for the killing of his attack dog, putting me in the clear. Just another splicer attack & the evidence proving otherwise was safe with me along with anything incriminating Camille.

I consider us even now.

Now it was a matter of _finding_ Camille & bringing her back. From what I knew of Atlas, finding _him_ personally would be like finding a needle in a haystack, but finding some of his followers would only take picking the right one & say that I just murdered Sullivan. Pick wrong, I'd get turned in to Ryan. Pick right, I'd get taken to Atlas & ultimately Camille.

I shook my head & moved toward the door. I stopped right as my hand connected to the door handle at the voice of someone unfamiliar to me. "Is this... Hawkeye's apartment?" It was a woman, timid, but strangely confident like she was sure that she was in the right place.

I yanked the door open quickly & grabbed the front blouse of a very startled Diane McClintock pulling her none-to-gently into my apartment. I slammed the door shut again & locked it before shooting a glare to the woman on the floor. "How in the hell do you know who I am?"

Diane looked like I had a gun to my face, which could still happen since the gun was tucked into the waistline of my trousers. Her face still held the scars from the Kashmir attack & her hair was stuffed up into a stocking cap

"Th-There's a woman under our care. She asked me to get you. She said _Hawkeye. Artemis. 26._" She rambled off holding her hands up in a small surrender. "It took me a few hours to figure out what she meant & I came here. Please."

"This woman: Blonde? Blue eyes? Taller than me?" She nodded sort of relieved she had the right person. I rubbed my chin, placing a hand on my hip. Camille requested that Diane fucking McClintock come here & get me? For what? Why didn't she call for Sinclair? Or just let me find her? She sent this woman to my door, an obvious Atlas-supporter to what? "Why in the hell should I trust a single word you say?" I questioned my hand dropping until it went behind my back & rested on the grip of the revolver.

"I didn't say that you should trust me, I just said that she asked for you. Believe what you'd like," Diane retorted gaining a little confidence.

Seeing no other option, I left my hands fall to my sides. "Fine."

Diane nodded & gestured for me to go first. I turned my back to her only for her to gasp unexpectedly. "Ah... Your gun-"

"Touch the gun, you'll lose your fingers," I snapped opening the door. "After you.


	24. Rapture Liberation

Dymond: One of the last chapters I will write out. Leaving in 3 days & most of it is spent packing up my things from my rental so I can store my stuff at my mother's. The countdown is happening & then I vanish off the face of the earth for about 6 months, so this will probably be my last chapter unless I get time. I will miss this when I'm gone, but I will come back to it when I get free time after Basic Training so CaliforniaStop, my dear, I give you free rein & use over Jamie "Hawkeye" Donovan (even if you want to kill her at the end if you feel it necessary. Go ahead). You can leave spaces where Jamie isn't there & when I get back I can fill in the blanks.

Jamie comes to Camille's rescue mildly annoyed at how many times she's pulling Camille's ass out of the fire. But she'll do it to make Sinclair happy & to keep Camille safe.

On an unrelated/slightly related note: I was writing this while listening to "They're Taking the Hobbits to Isengard". You know the 10 hour looped one. I don't think it can get any weirder than that.

Without further adieu, See All Evil Chapter 24.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~(Rapture!)

The blindfold -I felt- was completely unnecessary, but understandable with someone in my position who doesn't support Atlas in any way. Not that I supported Ryan either; if anything I stood behind Sinclair. These splicers were taking precautions to make sure I don't go squealing to Ryan about where Atlas was hiding not that I would. If Sinclair asked where Atlas was on the other hand, that'd be information I'd give to him. Camille had better be damn grateful I agreed to this even with her injuries that I had no doubt in my mind that she possessed.

To voice my annoyance of the blindfold, I repeated the mantra of, "Are we there yet?" Which drove a few of the splicers escorting me a little nuts, more than usual I mean. Despite my cold demeanor that I normally had, I can be annoying when I chose to be & this was one of those times. I'm surprised they didn't try & take the gun stuffed in the back of my trousers since my arms were being held by a splicer & Diane, but I supposed the threat of losing fingers did the trick.

"Yes! Fer godssake, we're here!" A splicer finally exclaimed pushing open a door & allowing Diane to lead me in. The blindfold was finally removed, but despite their precautions I knew exactly where we were: Fontaine's Home for the Poor. Not exactly a top secret base now, is it?

"This way," Diane said gently shooing off the other 3 splicers that accompanied us. I followed close behind Ryan's ex-fiancée gazing around the damaged walls around us & broken in doorways. Several posters of Atlas lined the walls as well trying to cover up some of the holes. This place had seen as much hell as the rest of Rapture meaning Ryan's team _had_ been in here to try & flush out Atlas which failed obviously. And Camille was staying here probably against her will or guilt-tripped into staying which I wouldn't put past Diane or Atlas.

Diane shouldered open a door at the end of the hallway & stepped to the side to let me in.

Camille was awake thankfully, laying on the cot inside & she was shocked to see me step through the door. Not as shocked as I was to see the extent of the number Sullivan did on her, but my face didn't betray what I was thinking. Her forehead was covered in a large plaster, cheeks swollen & turning various colors now, hands covered in a bandage as well from the nails I'd imagine. The rest of her body was covered with a button-up shirt she was drowning in & a pair of baggy trousers making her look similar to how I dressed so any chance of seeing the rest of the damage was slim to none. I held back the smile of the irony of seeing her dressed like me since she clearly didn't need that kind of agitation. No shoes or socks though.

"The painkillers are still wearing off, but please make yourself at home for her sake," Diane suggested in a comforting tone for Camille mostly, not for me. Camille slowly sat up to avoid causing her head to spin from the medication.

"I won't be staying long. And when I leave: I'm taking her with," I said moving to sit down on the edge of the cot & away from Diane. Diane said nothing to argue against my declaration which I was grateful for. The woman left the room without another word, leaving me & Camille alone.

Camille bit her bottom lip nervously. "I'm shocked you actually came." Her voice was a little slurred from the painkillers yet, but I could have cared less. She's heard me when I was coming down from a painkiller high & didn't say anything about it.

I shrugged nonchalantly. "I'm cold, not heartless," I joked lightly to try & lighten the mood a little half smirk forming for only a second. Even if I had to drag her out of here: I would get her to Sinclair, to Medical & then get the hell out of Rapture - all with avoiding this damn war & anyone looking into Sullivan's murder. My hand fell to the bulge in my pocket where the fob watch belonging to Fontaine still rested. "Oh! Got a present for you," I said digging in my pocket so I could pull out the watch properly without breaking anything. I gripped it in the palm of my hand & held it out for her to see, the gold giving off a shine to add to the affect.

Camille's breath hitched in her throat as she started at the fob watch, her fingers slowly moving out to trace the _F.F_ engraved on the casing. She caught her bottom lip again between her teeth to try & hold back the tears welling in her eyes as the tips of her fingers slowly traced the first 'F' of Fontaine's initials. Taking her wrist, I pressed the fob watch into her grasp so I wouldn't have to hold it anymore. Holding it felt like I was holding a bit of Fontaine which, in all honesty, scared the hell out of me. I still didn't know how she even came into possession of such a trinket since Fontaine was not known to give people personal items as gifts, especially nothing with his initials engraved on it. He'd go out & buy a brand new fob watch if he meant to give one to Camille or to anybody if he cared enough about them. "How... How did you get this? Sull-"

I held up a hand to stop her from finishing Sullivan's name. "_He's_ dead."

She was confused again. "Dead? What do you mean 'He's dead'?"

I pulled out her silver lighter as well & set it on her lap. "Got that as well." My hand reached around to pull the revolver out from the waistline of my trousers. "He was shot. With this gun." I held it up for her to see properly.

Her brows knitted together as she examined the revolver. "The gun... _My_ gun. How did you get this?"

I smirked at the question. "You may lock your doors, but the air ducts are always open."

"You were in my apartment?" Her tone was a little angry, but I had to guess that the shock of what happened to her hadn't really set in yet. Perhaps a few moments where she'd stare at something that reminded her of what happened, but the full blown hysteria hadn't happened.

Sinclair had to deal with mine a few days after I had escaped Sullivan's interrogation room, but he stayed with me during the whole thing whispering soothing words in my ear. I had Sinclair to deal with it, but who did Camille have? In reality, Sinclair & I were the only people she really had any friendly/respectful contact with since Fontaine was killed. She'd be too stubborn to call Sinclair for help despite that & we didn't even like each other enough for me to be the shoulder to cry on. The furthest our relationship has gotten to over the time we've known each other is a mutual respect & even _that_ was pushing it. Sure, she did ask Diane to come get me from my apartment, but in no way would Camille have asked for Diane to go to Sinclair, not only because he technically worked with Ryan, but also to keep him out of this war that he remained a neutral party in. Sinclair was her safe haven as he was mine & both of us would like that it remained that way even if it meant sacrificing our health. To everyone else, he was a man with a heart of stone who would sell paradise in an instant, but to us,

"Why did you agree to go with Diane?" She asked suddenly, her thumb still tracing the fob watch absentmindedly. "Did you even know I was missing?"

"Honestly? I agreed to go with Diane before I felt like had to. Yes, I knew you were missing. Yes, I searched you out after I went to your apartment to see you not there, only your cat, the revolver discarded on the floor, some blood by the door & Sullivan's business card which I knew you would never keep. It didn't take me long to find Sullivan & kill the bastard." Her eyes fell to the fob watch again. Her mood had changed drastically since the last time I saw her, but Sullivan could do that to a person. Regardless, it didn't feel right. Camille was supposed to be this strong, independent woman who was terrified to stand up to Fontaine but did it anyway having proved me wrong since the first time I laid eyes on her. "Just for the record, I'm starting to feel like your Nanny."

The glare was there in an instant. "My _Nanny_?!" Much better.

I chuckled & stood up, stuffing the gun in my now empty pocket. "I'll get you some painkillers & take you to Sinclair. Sinclair can get you an appointment in Medical & they can fix you up better than these guys can."

Camille nodded then grabbed my wrist suddenly. "He... He taped the session..." I nodded & dug in my left pocket, pulling out both tapes. "There are two?"

"One is yours. And one is _his_. I thought you'd might enjoy it." She took the tapes tentatively, looking at them like they were going to burst into flames. "You can listen to them on your own time."

"Did you listen...?" She trailed off, afraid of the answer.

"No. I didn't." A long exhale escaped me. "I couldn't bring myself to press play." Shock was Camille's next emotion.

"Why couldn't you? You were eager to listen to my tapes before."

I bit down on the inside of my cheek, debating whether or not to answer. If it was any other tape sitting in that interrogation room I would have listened, but if I had pressed play on that device & listened to Camille scream it wouldn't have mattered if I had killed Sullivan: The nightmares would still remain, along with the restless nights & poor appetite (I was already thin enough, I didn't need to add malnourished to the list. Sinclair was already having a shit-fit about my sleeping habits). "Just take the tapes."

She nodded obediently & stuffed them in the pocket of her trousers along with her lighter. The fob watch she held on to. Before I could even reach for the painkillers resting on the table nearby, the door swung open & in stepped Atlas causing me to freeze. A quirky grin made it's way to Atlas' strong featured face as his blue eyes darted between myself & Camille. "I was told ya had a friend in your room, Betty, but... this was not what I was expectin'." Betty? I glanced back at Camille who glared at me a little to play along with the charade. Smart girl.

I crossed my arms & straightened my shoulders defensively. "And what were you expecting?" I kept my voice calm, but in my head the question came out as a growl.

Atlas could see right through the calmness in my voice & his quirky grin molded into a charming smile fit for a shark, challenging me with his gaze to make a move against him. Despite the smile that seemed to tell people that he was a powerful man on the side of the angels, to me his demeanor screamed, "Stand in my way & I'll send you to Ryan in a body bag with a smile." He may have had everyone else in the Drop & Apollo Square fooled into thinking he was some sort of saint, but I wasn't an idiot. Atlas would either take them to the surface in some miracle act from God or get everyone killed brutally for Ryan wasn't going to hold back.

Atlas crossed his arms to mimic me & asked, "You're the same as the people I help. Diane tells me you live in the Artemis Suites. Why aren't you standin' with us?"

My arms dropped to my sides as I stared him down. "My reasons are my own. Now if you'll excuse us, we're leaving."

Atlas' smile dropped when he noticed my arm. I tucked my arms behind my back & gave him a faked smile. "Would you kindly leave us so that I can deal with her in privacy?"

"Yer arm..."

"**Leave**," I nearly growled out. He held up his hands in a mock surrender & left the room quietly casting one last glance at Camille.

"You weren't kidding when you said you didn't like Atlas," Camille commented, scratching the side of her arm & wincing at the strain it put on her muscles to even move her arm.

"Yeah well, I don't trust anybody who sends splicers to nearly kill us. Kill Sinclair..." I shook my head & went back to my previous task of getting her some painkillers so that she could survive the trip out of Fontaine's Home for the Poor. The affect hit her almost right away & I knelt down with my back turned to the cot. "Get on."

"Wha?" She slurred, the painkillers taking their affect.

"Well you're not walking out of here on your own are you? Come on, Cinderella. I'll carry you." She nodded like a bobble head & looped her arms around my neck allowing herself to almost fall on to my back. Hooking her knees, I stood up slowly to prevent any jarring.

I ignored the splicers staring us down as I passed them & shot a glare to Atlas who only smiled in response & waved. Splicers stopped me at the door & put blindfolds around our eyes as a precaution & escorted me out with relative ease so I wouldn't end up tripping over anything & dropping the injured Camille Adler. After a while, they slipped the blindfolds off & gave me a warning glare. I held back a chuckle & continued on out of Apollo Square avoiding Ryan's Security as best as I could. If any asked, I just told them that she was my cousin who was injured in a splicer attack & I was taking her to medical. It was a fairly simple lie, easy to remember & nobody asked for ID since my hands were occupied & Camille was unconscious. I was thankful for the upper body strength I possessed for how long I was spending walking to the Sinclair Tower since I couldn't gain access to the Atlantic Express forcing me to take the tunnels. And also for the fact that Camille stayed mostly still in her drugged sleep aside from the occasional shifting of her head on my shoulder.

I looked at Camille out of the corner of my eye & realized that despite everything, I could actually add her to my small list of friends joining Augustus & Grace. I couldn't really say the same for Camille, but it was a nice sentiment. I hadn't heard one single remark about my class since that night at the Kashmir which was a nice change. I smiled as the Sinclair Tower came into view & made a small promise to myself: even if it killed me, Sinclair & Camille would see the surface again


	25. Rapture Insanity

Dymond: GUESS WHAT! I'M BACK IN ACTION! Officially a proud member of the United States Air Force & just getting through Tech School now. I have a 3 day weekend so I'll be busy working on this for a bit. Anyways, I will not keep you waiting!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~(The squiggles look good in ABUs)

Sinclair & I only stayed in Camille's room even after the x-ray specialist came around to get her scans. Every now & then I would hover around the Medical Pavilion like some old sheep dog, waiting for any news on Camille's condition. Sinclair & I could have left, but with Steinman & the other doctors as spliced & insane as they were: I was not about to leave Camille unattended for a long period of time. Call it a healthy level of paranoia. And Camille was long overdue for one of her crazy adventures. I wouldn't put it past her to search out Steinman for some insane reason.

I had told Sinclair the bare minimum of details of Camille's torture, leaving out the fact that she was rescued by Atlas, replacing it with a white lie that she had escaped on her own & I found her wandering around Port Neptune. I said nothing of Sullivan's murder as well, only that he wasn't there when I arrived to get her for Sinclair's protection than my own.

Sinclair dismissed himself to use the restroom, leaving me by myself to wait for Camille to return with the results of her scans.

I stepped out of the room to purchase something to munch on from the vending machine. These visits to the hospital were getting more & more frequent as the years progressed, making the option of finding some way to leave this place more desperate. Ryan had closed down the bathysphere travel though, which resulted in a slaughter outside of the main port when Ryan's security shot the civilians trying to break their way past the barricade.

I jumped when I heard blood curdling screams coming from Aesthetic Ideals that tore through the whole Pavilion. "What the hell...?" I questioned, my brows knitting together.

I glanced around to see that no one was affected by the screams, like it had become a normal occurrence. Steeling my nerves, I stood from my seat & slowly stepped down the hall toward Aesthetic Ideals, toward Steinman's favorite haunt. The hallway itself was dimmed almost to the point of pitch darkness from the numerous burnt out lights that no one had a care to replace. A few splicers slumped over in their chairs that lined the hallway; dead or alive, I couldn't figure that out & I didn't care to find out. The patient lounge looked no different from the rest of the Pavilion, even the posters were mangled with surgical scissors protruding from the eyes of a few, red... marker I hoped... scribbled over the pictures of young women to show the changes that Steinman wanted to make on them with his scalpel. I shivered at the possibility of getting one of those scissors in my own eyes & continued on, ignoring the rest of the blood stained place. The screaming echoed again & my legs moved faster to find the source, almost breaking into a full on sprint, but I controlled myself enough to march on in the cadence of double-time.

I heard the familiar groan of a Big Daddy ambling around nearby, but I ignored it since I had no interest in the hulking behemoth.

I passed through the final Securis door that revealed something right out of a horror movie: it was dark & blood stained the walls surrounding the front desk. The screams were deafening coming from behind the front desk & this time I could make out words, "GET OFF! STOP! HELP!" I had no idea what propelled me forward to try & save this woman's torment, but before I knew it, I was laying a punch to the one & only Steinman's jaw. He slammed into the wall directly behind the desk, startling him enough to buy me a few moments of time to get his receptionist out of there. I grabbed her wrist & gave it a pull, getting her out from behind her desk, but stopped when I saw the damage: she was barely alive & gasping for air since one of her breasts cut off viciously leaving a gaping hole where it should have been. Blood poured nonstop from the hole making me shiver at the sight as my vision briefly flashed to the knife Sullivan wielded to carve my body up. The receptionist gave on last desperate look at me, begging for help before her life drifted away, her eyes going dull.

I arched back instinctively as a surgical knife swung dangerously close to my throat. "I wasn't done with her! Now I can't use her breasts!" He shouted angrily, maniacally even the insanity clear in his voice. He paused for a moment as he looked me up & down, "Actually, I could use you..." He swung wildly & I ducked out of the way. It didn't take long before I was sprinting further into Aesthetic Ideals into the surgery wing having no way to get around Steinman to get to the exit. "Come baaaaaack! I'm not going to hurt you, I just want to cut you open & see what's inside!"

I slid sharply around the corner, my hand touching the ground to keep me balanced on the slippery floor. I slammed my back against the wall in a desperate attempt to hide. I could hear Steinman's expensive shoes clicking against the tile as he got closer, his running slowed to threatening steps. I jumped when a chiming tone echoed throughout the lobby & into the hallway I was hiding in. His footsteps ceased. "Who could it be, goddess? Another comes to be beautiful?" His footsteps did a full 180 & went back down the hallway to answer the door.

Carefully I stepped out, only catching his white coat disappearing from view. Who in their right mind would come here to seek out Steinman when it was clear he was insane & murderous at that. I shook my head & got my breathing back under control along with my thundering heart. I knew I hated doctors for a reason. Going back the way I came with the intent of escaping, I waited until Steinman's voice ran out. "Yes? I'm very busy! Who is it?" He seemed annoyed probably because he was interrupted from chasing me about, hell bent on cutting me open for whatever he wanted. And slightly out of breath from running after me.

I was thankful to whichever stupid sap came, distracting him from his task of gutting me alive like his receptionist.

_"Dr. Steinman? It's... Camille Adler."_ My thoughts came to a screeching halt along with my breathing. Oh for love of... Is she serious right now? I leave her alone for more than ten minutes & she's trying to get herself killed... again! I groaned internally & glanced around the corner at Steinman hovered over the call button.

"Do you have an appointment?" He asked, twirling the bloodstained scalpel between his fingers.

_"No, I don't. I just came from the hospital wing & I... I'd like to speak with you."_ I could have punched Camille repeatedly so that she would remain in a vegetative state so she wouldn't do stupid shit like this again. Of all the people Sinclair had me tail from the get-go, it had to be the most suicidal girl in all of Rapture. Camille & I would have a very long discussion when we had the chance... _If_ we had the chance.

"Regarding?"

_"A private matter."_

"I'm too busy, Miss Adler. I've got patients waiting here for me to see them & the goddess demands much of my time. I'm sorry, you'll have to make an appointment & see me later. My receptionist should be at the door so please speak with _her._" Was he really that delusional? He had just murdered his receptionist not even 5 minutes ago! The man was insane, no doubt & now Camille was about to walk right into his office for what I know of Camille, she'd say something that would pique his interest & cause him to open the door.

_"Please! I... I'd like to see you about a consultation."_ Never fails.

And as predicted, she had successfully caught Steinman's attention as a maniacal grin spread across his face. "Really?" He asked, almost giddy at the thought of having Camille in for a consultation.

_"Yes. If you'll let me in, well, you'll see how badly I need some surgery. _Your _surgery."_

"Of course, Miss Adler. Come through. My office is at the end of the hall." I hid in the shadows as Steinman waltzed past, not even noticing me hiding thankfully. His door slammed shut making me jump a little. I held my breath as Camille passed by as well, looking around as scared as I had been when I saw the state of this place. If only she'd learn to not do stupid things like this for her own curiosity. Stupidity killed the cat, curiosity was framed.

Camille reached the door & knocked before she went inside to Steinman's call.

I couldn't bring myself to get up from the floor, unsure of wait laid behind that door that Camille had just disappeared in to. It only took a few minutes before Steinman came out almost singing to himself about his receptionist's lips looking absolutely divine on Camille's face & to Aphrodite. Fucking lunatic. I inched out of the shadows towards the door where no doubt Camille was. I could hear her rifling through his filing cabinet, searching for something & it didn't take a genius to figure out she was searching for Fontaine's file. Adler had such an obsession with Fontaine it was almost unhealthy, but I could commend the woman for being this faithful to a man who's dead.

I slunk back to the shadows when Steinman returned, waving a pair of lips around like they were toys, cut jaggedly off of his receptionist. "Miss Adler, I have exactly what you need," He announced quite pleased with himself.

"I can see that, Dr. Steinman," Her words were starting to shake as the fear set in again. "They're lovely lips."

"I've always admired my receptionist's mouth. She won't need it anymore, thought. I think these lips will suit you much better. To be honest, Miss Adler, I've always found you to be quite repulsive. That sounds harsh, I know, but every time you've come into my office, I've just wanted to _fix you fucking face."_ I'd like to see him try. If anything, he'd have to get through me to get to Camille & I was ready to break the door down if needed. "Your eyes, your cheekbones, your jaw, your _mouth._ All so _quaint._ So _pretty_. I've dreamed about it, about having you on my table. The things my scalpel & I would do to you... I must say, I'm quite grateful for Sullivan. If he hadn't done _that_ to you, you would never have come to me." I nearly vomited at Sullivan's name, may the man burn in agony in Hell.

I heard Camille slowly move away from the filing cabinet saying, "Well, Dr. Steinman, I appreciate it."

"So, shall we begin? I'll prepare the operating room."

"Good idea," She kept egging him on to get him to go somewhere else so she could escape with her files.

Steinman walked further into his office to get the surgery room ready for Camille. My hand carefully slid to the doorknob & I opened the door, giving her an avenue to escape from the room before Steinman had the chance to kill her. Camille was standing near the entrance to the surgical suite, a bottle of ether poised over her head ready to strike when the moment came. "NO!" Steinman shrieked. "What's happened?! _You weren't ready yet!_" He screamed out. "What did you _do_?!" He lunged for Camille only to have her give a roar & bring the bottle against his face. She sidestepped another lunge & swung her casted wrist down on his head. "You little bitch!" Steinman growled, clutching his head. "You _ugly cunt_!"

Camille sprinted past me without even noticing I was there with the files clutched in her hands & glass stuck in her feet. Adrenaline was the only thing keeping her going now & I would buy her some time. My arm shot out just in time for Steinman to clothesline himself on it, sending him straight to the floor. My arm gave a painful jar from the impact but I ignored it. I could hear Camille screaming for help, but I knew she'd be fine as long as I kept Steinman at bay. A flurry of curses flew from Steinman & I backed up from him, occasionally glancing back to make sure I didn't run in to anything. Steinman staggered to his feet & glared me down. I could see the blood running down the side of his face where the bottle had connected & his unkempt mustache. His glasses had been abandoned by now, revealing the bloodshot brown eyes he had. "Ah! So you're still here!" He laughed.

"Not for long," I said, spinning on the ball of my foot to connect my heel to his bloodied temple.

I hit the vents as quick as I could, leaving Steinman unconscious on the bloodied floor. I dropped inside of a bathroom & glanced at myself in the mirror. The blood on my face wasn't even my own, but I had to clean up before I returned to Sinclair. Running the tap, I quickly cleaned off what I could to avoid the attention of Sinclair's observant eye & returned to Camille's room where Sinclair was waiting. "There you are!" He smirked standing up from his seat. "I thought you had left me alone here."

"I just went to speak to a doctor about something. No concern," I brushed him off & took a seat besides him, lacing my fingers with his. After that... _experience_ with Steinman, I was thankful to at least hold Sinclair's perfectly normal, non-bloodstained hand that didn't twirl a scalpel obsessively. I wondered when Camille would return & for now I would play the ignorant, but I would confront her about it later.

As if summoned by my thoughts, Camille entered the room looking a little out of breath. My hand moved away from Sinclair's in an instant. "Darlin', we were gettin' worried-" Sinclair started, but frowned. "Where's your doctor?"

Camille looked away for only a second. "Uh, not with me," She replied with a shrug. She peered over her shoulder, looking for someone, but saw no one.

I wondered if she would come clean about what she had done, so I asked, "What's with all the blood?"

She glanced down at her hospital gown as if just noticing the splotches of blood staining the material. From the amount, Steinman for sure was feeling dizzy. "It's not mine," She admitted as if to settle Sinclair who looked absolutely horrified at the amount of blood.

"Honey, are you OK? You're as pale as ash!" He exclaimed about to stand up.

"I can't really explain it now but... You have to get out of here. Out of Medical. Steinman-"

I was surprised she actually said the man's name. "_Steinman?_" I played up the disbelief a bit.

"It's his blood. Well, most of it. Look, Jamie, just get Augustus back to his office." I was almost annoyed that she made me out as Sinclair's babysitter as well.

"What about you?" I questioned wondering what stupid idea she had now since it'd take a lot to beat going to see Steinman.

"I'll be fine."

I snorted. "Yeah, right." After what happened in Aesthetic Ideals, I was about to buy a leash for her.

"_Please_," She urged, grabbing my wrist & giving it a squeeze.

I tore my arm away from her & crossed my arms. Fine, I'd play this game. "I'll do what you say, because anything that involves Steinman won't end well, but that doesn't mean I don't want answer later." I took Sinclair's hand again & pulled him after me, him giving one last fleeting glance at Camille.

"What in the blazes is goin' on with you two?" He asked forcing me to stop. "You two have been keepin' secrets from me from the moment you two finally started to get along." He crossed his arms & gave me an expectant look, like scolding a child instead of the woman he loved. "What is goin' on, Jamie Donovan?" He was not about to let this drop from what I could tell.

I shook my head & sighed. "Augustus, please. I made a promise to Camille, one I intend to keep. I will tell you in time, but for now Camille & I need to get this figured out. We don't want anything to happen to you should we get caught." I looked at the ground a little ashamed that Sinclair was becoming upset with me over this. Camille definitely owed me.

Sinclair dipped a finger under my chin & made me look up. He gave me an understanding smile & placed a small kiss on my mouth. I smiled & wrapped my arms around his waist, taking comfort in Sinclair's arms. With the evil I see on a daily basis, I was glad for Sinclair's every constant pleasant presence despite this city going to Hell. And I liked to think that Sinclair found my presence of source of comfort, but I was happy to live in ignorance if that wasn't the case. "Can I stay at your place tonight?" I asked without thinking it over.

In all cases, I could care less anymore. Pauper's Drop had become a place where people were either standing behind Sofia Lamb or they were standing behind Atlas with no middle ground. None of them would care about a girl like me staying with someone like Sinclair anymore & I didn't intend to return to Pauper's Drop for a good while. Tonight, I just wanted some peace & quiet to sleep & if that meant sleeping in the same bed as Sinclair, then by gods I was going to sleep like death.

Sinclair treated me to a nice dinner once we reached his apartment & we ate in a comfortable silence before making our way to his bedroom. He loaned me an oversized shirt to sleep in & I immediately started to strip. Sinclair gave me a flustered look & scratched the back of his head. "Not that I don't appreciate seein' you without clothes on, honey, but are you feelin' all right, Jamie?. First you say you want to spend the night here & now you're changin' in front of me."

I shrugged indifferently & slipped the oversized shirt over my head. "You've all ready seen me before like this. With..." I trailed off at the thought of Sullivan & that knife. Sinclair put a hand on my shoulder & gently pulled my hair out it's ponytail, letting it drape over my shoulders.

"He won't bother you anymore. I'll make sure of it," He reassured gesturing to the bed. I smiled at the fact that he still had no idea of the murder of Sullivan, so that meant he was still safe & in the clear.

I stood next to the side of it for a few moments, watching Sinclair climb in on the other side. All I could do was stare at the open side Sinclair had left for me like some lost child. Sinclair glanced at me once he was settle & asked, "Are you alright, darlin'?"

I shook my head & slowly crawled in to join him, but kept a bit of a distance between me & him. Sinclair only smiled & closed his eyes, not pushing the subject. I looked over at him before my gaze returned to the ceiling. Forcefully, I closed my eyes & went into something of a restless sleep.

I jerked away only an hour later from a nightmare about Sullivan. I sat up & placed my hands in my face letting out a desperate sigh. I thought if the man was dead that I'd be free, that the nightmares would stop & for once I could sleep through the night, but all I could see every time I closed my eyes was the glint of that knife dripping with my blood & Sullivan's mocking voice reminding me that I was nothing & no one would come for me, that no one could hear me scream. I jumped when I heard a soft snore escape the man besides me as he scratched the top of his head in his sleep. I smiled, watching him sleep for a few moments. Sullivan was wrong: someone did come for me.

Slowly I slid back down under the covers careful not to jostle the man sleeping next to me. 10 seconds of bravery had be snuggling against Sinclair's side, my head resting comfortably on his shoulder, my hand splayed out on his chest. In his sleep, his arm moved around my shoulders & drew me in close. I closed my eyes & for once, I didn't see Sullivan's face, only a comforting darkness that came with sleep. Cliche, I know, but with the hell surrounding us I could enjoy this moment of peace sleeping next to Sinclair; enjoying the little things while they lasted. Tomorrow was another day into this civil war between Ryan & Atlas with a few of us standing off to the side watching the massacre: Myself & Camille standing behind Sinclair & the rest of Rapture not with Atlas or Ryan were standing behind Sofia Lamb.

Some nights I wished this all would end.


	26. Rapture Betrayal

Dymond: AND ANOTHER CHAPTER! I'm one of those tech students that doesn't exactly go out much when we get free time, so I just sit in my down in a tee-shirt & a pair of shorts munching on cheez-its & listening to music. My roommate is bat-shit insane & her favorite phrases are "Holy piss!" & "Cock-sucking Jesus!" & saying 'fuck' every other word. I know I've got a bit of a problem with my mouth when I'm with friends, but it's not this bad, I know it's not. And now to make sure that you read CaliforniaStop's story The Scars of Utopia, you'll have to read chapter 31 & 32 to understand what happens here! HA! (me being lazy, bleh) I also lost my internet for a while until I found the perfect position in my dorm room to get internet again from someone who didn't password lock theirs.

Well, without further adieu: SEE ALL EVIL!

Writing this while listening to the Bioshock: Infinite soundtrack. I have no life.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~(RAPTURE!)

I still felt like Camille's babysitter. Her strange request to have me guide her through the maintenance shafts halted me for a moment & I was about to say no, but Sinclair insisted I go or else she'd fare the streets by herself & the possibility of her getting killed was higher. If I didn't love him, I would have told him to shove his guilt-trip up his ass.

And she had the gaul to involve Bill McDonagh in her desperation to prove that the body hanging in Ryan's gallery _wasn't_ Frank Fontaine. I believed her, but she knew that Bill would agree to her request regardless of how crazy they were & that pissed me off. Bill was a good man with a good head on his shoulders to be drawn into something that didn't involve him directly. I got my point across to her that if anything were to happen to him while running her fool's errand that I would hold her personally responsible & she would not like the result. I once respected Camille as a worthy adversary, as someone who I could trust a little farther than I could throw her, but now she had taken my trust of her & shoved it in my face to do as she pleases.

But as crazy as she was going about this, the evidence all pointed to the fact that Frank Fontaine was still alive, only with a different face provided for him by one Dr. J. Steinman.

For a moment, I looked in the direction of Sinclair's end table & the drawer where I had stuffed the medical file put together by Steinman that Camille had retrieved from the mad man's office. I had only glanced it over when she handed it to me, but I closed it quickly in a moment of pure disgust. I didn't know how Steinman had gotten a full frontal picture of me, but the things he had drawn on it for 'enhancements' & 'modifications' made me refuse to open it again after Camille had handed it to me. Just the thought of what he had planned to do to me did not sit well in my stomach & almost made me hurl from the amount of detail he went into when it came to describing how much he hated my face.

"Honey? You okay?" Sinclair asked, slightly leaning over me. I looked up at him without saying a word & shifted into a more comfortable position on his shark leather couch that I had unofficially claimed as my own.

I finally gave him a nod to satisfy his question & he leaned down, placing a small kiss on my forehead. "You've been quiet these pas' few days. It's startin' to worry me."

"I'm sorry then. But there's not much to say." I sat up & hopped up to my feet. "I've got something to check up on. I'll tell you the results." I gave him a half-assed wave & jumped up into the vents, the only place I could really feel safe in Rapture anymore & even that was a death wish.

I hadn't seen Bill at the Fighting McDonagh's for a while ever since he had helped Camille get that little bit of DNA from the corpse hanging on Ryan's wall.

I dropped through the vent to Bill's office, still not seeing him anywhere which wasn't all that odd if Rapture wasn't falling apart at the seams, but Rapture was at a point where repairs were pointless now. His pneumo was mostly empty except for a note from Camille of all people explaining the results of the DNA test she had Gil run: The codes didn't match. Well, I'll be damned.

I searched his desk for any sign of where he could be & quickly found an Accu-Vox that he recently been recorded. I shook my head & quickly pressed play.

_"I never killed a man, let alone a mate. But this is what things come to. I don't know if killing Mr. Ryan will stop the war, but I know it won't stop while that man breathes. I love Mr. Ryan. But I love Rapture. If I have to kill one to save the other, so be it."_ The recording came to a stop.

"Oh no... Bill." I was in the vents once more crawling well into Hephaestus faster than I had ever moved before. I dropped down right in front of the doors leading into the hall where Ryan kept his trophies which included the bodies of 'Frank Fontaine' & Anya Andersdotter (Ryan's "Assassin"). I paused for a moment outside of the door before stepping close enough for the bulkhead to slide open on it's own.

There was a new body -horribly burned from the looks of it- hanging on the first pillar on the right. I could still smell the flesh on the corpse sizzling from the amount of heat used from an Incinerate. He really tried to kill Andrew Ryan, but failed. Bill McDonagh was dead. "Shit, Bill... Why?" I questioned the corpse like he was going to respond. And I couldn't even blame Camille for this. McDonagh went & played with fire & now he was burnt to a crisp hanging on Ryan's Trophy Wall.

If only Bill realized that Rapture was already lost even if he killed Andrew Ryan, that Atlas would take over, or hell, even Sofia would try & stake her claim on Rapture causing yet another war between Atlas & Sofia's followers.

I left the hall with a slight tremble in my body, noticeable when I pulled myself up into the vents. The last person with a sane head on his shoulders was gone leaving nothing there to stop Ryan from doing something incredibly stupid in a mad attempt to stop Atlas.

I returned dutifully to the Sinclair Tower to make sure Sinclair didn't end up sleeping in his office again for the 3rd night in a row. And perhaps tell Camille that Bill was dead.

At least I was going to return to his office, until I saw a very familiar & very unwanted Irish revolutionary in a dark overcoat & a skull-knit cap covering his blonde hair. He was flanked by a few rather dangerous looking Splicers with several boils, bulbous flesh & deformities covering their bodies, each armed with plasmids & weapons to compensate for Irishman's lack-thereof. The rest of the splicers appeared almost out of the shadows which made me applaud them for the ability to hide in plain sight; a trick that took me a while to accomplish.

I ducked into the shadows & observed the scene with a careful set of eyes.

"Betty?" Atlas questioned which made me want to smash my head against a wall repeatedly. Of _course_ he was here for Camille & of _course_ Camille just had to meet up with him. Atlas pushed his way through the crowd to get closer to Adler with a grin spread across his face. "Well, ain't you a sight for sore eyes. You look a helluva lot better than when I last saw ya."

"I... I can't believe you came here," Camille said rather dumbly if I do say so myself. "I mean, the security around here &..." She means me. "You're a wanted man! And-"

I glared as Atlas raised his hand to silence her. "I get around the city well enough, Betty." Through the smuggler tunnels which can only get him so far, then he depends on his splicers to cause a distraction while he travels from place to place. I had him tagged from the moment me & him met. "Besides, Ms. McClintock here said that you wanted ta speak with me. How could I ignore that?" Easily. "A Sinclair Solutions employee, eh?" He gave a quick shake of his head. "I'll tell ya now, I didn't see _that_ comin'."

"She told you, huh?" I nearly smacked my hand against my face, noting that she was still wearing her ID that anyone still literate could figure out that she worked for Sinclair Solutions. "I don't blame her, I guess."

"And I don't blame _you_. I know you're not like Sinclair, or the others in his orbit." My fists clenched tightly together, my fingernails almost breaking through the skin. How dare he speak about Sinclair like that. "You're even helpin' us out. Now, that ain't like no Sinclair employee _I've_ ever known."

"And just how man _have_ you known?" She challenged smartly.

Atlas didn't reply - caught in his own twist of words. "So," He started to change the subject, crossing his arms, "Why the sudden change o' heart? Last time I saw ya, well, ya weren't too friendly. Have I grown on ya?"

"No," She mumbled at first & I almost didn't catch what the woman had said. She repeated after a moment, "No. You haven't _grown_ on me. My opinion of you hasn't changed all that much. But I've been doing some thinking. A _lot_ of thinking. If Rapture's come down to Ryan or you..." She hesitated to finish, biting her bottom lip in her usual nervous tick.

Atlas urged her to continue with a subtle raise of an eyebrow. "If that's what it's come down to, I know where i wanna be. I don't like you, or what you do, but you & I want the same thing - freedom. That's reason enough for me to get behind you."

I was thinking that Atlas' smile couldn't have gotten any bigger, but I was proven wrong with his pearly white teeth showing more than before. "Well, this is an interestin' turn of events. Ya sure about this, lass? Once you go up against Ryan, it ain't somethin' you can change your mind about. It's bloody dangerous." No kidding. One wrong move & she could end up another trophy on Ryan's wall or dangling from the gallows. And if she thought I would always be around to play the ever mysterious bodyguard she had a rude awakening for her.

"If you get me out of this city, I'll do whatever it takes." She thrust out her hand for him to shake. "What do you say, Atlas?"

"I'm more'n happy to have ya, Betty, But is this what _you_ want?" He made a gesture to the Sinclair Tower. "You wanna give all this up? I imagine you're well off, good job, money, security. You wanna give all o' t'at up & run with us?"

"I can't do this – _this _– anymore," she replied, gesturing to Sinclair Tower. "I can't. Nothing that I have is worth the destruction of the city. Yes, I want to give it all up. I want to get _out of here_. As much as I'd rather not, I have to join you. I _know_ you can do it." My glare turned from Atlas to Camille.

"And what'll you offer me in return?" Atlas asked. "I don't just take anyone in without askin' for a little hard work in return."

That caught Camille off guard. What did she expect? That he was just going to accept her without a little insurance that she wasn't just a waste of air & using him to escape when he had followers to lead & promise the same thing. "W-what do you _want_ me to do?"

"Well, what _can_ you do?" Atlas asked quickly.

"I… I'll do what Diane does. Looting places for resources."

He made a small noise of contemplation & asked, "have ya ever done anyt'in' like that before? It's not as easy as it looks, ya know."

"I'll read all those medical manuals. I'll learn how to help you, your followers. I can do that, right?"

"I have information. About Ryan. His plans, his actions against you… That's what working in this place has done for me. I can help you with that. Among other things. I'm privy to a lot of reports & correspondence." My glare hardened. More like _I_ had information that was downright juicy & she had the business side of that information which wasn't the full truth half the time. But to top it off, giving information on Ryan meant giving information on Sinclair & ultimately me, throwing us all under a bus.

Atlas chuckled darkly having already thought through the same thing as me. "So, ya'd throw all these people under the bus if it meant gettin' my approval?"

"No, I didn't mean it like that… It's just that – well, you could use someone like me. To keep you two steps ahead of Ryan. Right?" Atlas looked deep in thought over the whole thing. "Please?" she begged.

I glanced over Atlas' group of Splicers, noting how quiet they had been despite the obvious addiction to ADAM they possessed & looked at Atlas like he was some kind of god. Pathetic.

"Ya seem dedicated enough," he agreed, a smile on his face. He gently took a hold of her plastered hand & gave it a shake, sealing the deal.

"So… What now?" Camille questioned slowly.

"Get your affairs in order. I expect ya have a lot to sort here," Atlas answered. His gaze was on the neon sign that said _Sinclair Solutions._ "When yer ready, head to Apollo Square. It's safe from Ryan. Someone'll getcha & bring ya to me."

"That's it? I just have to hang around Apollo Square waiting for you?" she snapped, obviously finding the request a little ridiculous.

"Ya have so little faith in me, don't ya?" Atlas said, chuckling. "I should let ya get back to it, then."

"I guess," she muttered. "That's it?"

"That's it," he answered, turning to face the Splicers. With a wave to the group he was with, they disappeared back into the depths of Rapture.

"Oh God, what did I just do?" she muttered to herself. I ducked inside the Sinclair Tower to give her a firm piece of my mind. She just signed a deal with the devil & didn't even realize it.

Camille stopped walking for a moment when her eyes laid on me. She knew exactly what she was in for. I leant against the nearby wall & crossed my arms. I wasn't going to try & make her see reason: she was far too stubborn for that. But I had to at least make her think this through carefully. "Please tell me I didn't hear what I think I just heard,"

She mimicked my stance more for defense than offense like my own. "What's it to _you_?" She asked, a cold tone to the words. And here I thought we were finally good friends.

"Nothing," I responded, giving a shrug of my own. "You can do what you like, Adler. But I know a few people who won't be too happy. Like Augustus Sinclair, for one."

"Tell him. I don't care. I'm done here."

"I thought you were smarter than this. Atlas? He's got you wrapped around his finger. You're gonna join him & then what?"

"I'm gonna get out of this city. Look, if that's all you have to say then I have work to do." She brushed past me & crawled into the elevator, leaving me alone in the foyer.

"Just know, Miss Adler," I said to no one in particular. "That if you compromise Sinclair, I will not hesitate to burn Atlas' little mission to the ground."

I gave a glare in the direction Camille left & kicked off the wall. I was going to let Camille be the one to tell Sinclair she was quitting - I could care less. I just wanted to go home & sleep off the headache starting to form because of this whole mess.

With a quick goodbye to Sinclair, I hit the vents taking my time in returning to Apollo Square & my apartment. Despite the war, Apollo Square still remained mostly intact aside from the trams being blown off their tracks, killing a good amount of people in the process. So using the express was no longer an option.

I coughed out of no where on something foul in the air, pumping through the vents. "What the-?" My question was cut off by more coughing, this time harder than before & a pain in my chest from my lungs being cut off from decent oxygen.

The pheromone... So Gil finished it...

Desperately crawling toward the nearest vent I could find, I tore it open & fell through not caring where it ended up just as long as I could breathe. My back slammed painfully into the ground, knocking the wind out of me making the cough worse. I must have landed in the main square since I could hear the sounds of more people coughing as well & insane splicers screaming for Atlas to save them.

For me: I just wanted to breathe again.


	27. Rapture Assault

Dymond: Another chapter of See All Evil! YAY! CaliforniaStop, bless her heart, is slowing down on posts so I can catch up quick & we can continue on this collaborative effort. Love ya, miss ya, & becoming an upstanding & hardworking defender (Security Forces member. That's what we're called). This chapter mentions some of CaliforniaStop's latest chapter, but also goes into the reason _why_ Ryan flooded Rapture with the mind control pheromone instead of just flooding selected areas like Apollo Square. REVIEW DAMMIT!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~(The squiggles missed Dymond)

I felt dizzy & cold, yet sweat beaded my forehead despite the shivers I was feeling. I still couldn't move from where I had landed painfully on my back & the night was rolling in. I coughed hoarsely into my arm & stared at the glass roof overlooking Apollo Square, showing an expansive view of the surface miles above our heads. "Wha's this li'l fish?" I heard a voice ask, dripping with insanity. "Wond'r if she gots any ADAM..." A grotesque looking Splicer leaned over my body, looking for any sign of ADAM on my person.

He would be sorely disappointed.

The ground shuddered beneath my fingers & a groan echoed around the area. "Uh oh... Need ta run! No li'l fish is worth toein' it with de metal daddy!" The splicer screeched & took off, leaving me to lie there on the ground, too dizzy to move.

I gave a groan & finally rolled on to my stomach the pain in my spine becoming more evident. "Dammit..." I cursed struggling up to my hands & knees. My body shivered uncontrollably in protest to my movements, but with the steady thumping of a Big Daddy approaching; I had to make my escape.

"Look, daddy!" a distorted child's voice rang out. "It's an angel!" I looked up sharply. Not even 10 feet fro me was a Little Sister accompanied by her metal bodyguard hovering over the body of a female recently dead.

I squinted my eyes at the familiar face of the child: Masha Lutz, daughter of Mariska Lutz who worked at the Fighting McDonagh's & lived there in the apartments above it. Why was she a Little Sister? Unless Ryan was really desperate enough to create new Little Sisters using the citizens' children, not that I wouldn't put it past him.

Ever so slowly, I staggered to my feet & took careful steps backwards away from the Big Daddy (Rosie Series). My arms wrapped protectively around my ribs having been rattled in the fall. I could tell that they weren't broken, but the more likely scenario were that a few were bruised.

The walk was slow back to my lonely little apartment (pure hell walking up the stairs).

Time had past since that day, Camille taking off without a word & later I had discovered her with Atlas when they made a raid on Sinclair Spirits. The girl thought she could hide from The stupid girl was going to get herself killed. Sinclair was... upset is the best word to describe it, but it took two weeks before he finally took her DNA out of the system, causing problems for the raid. It was cute when she tried to copy what I did on a normal basis, but in all I realized that this was more a test of loyalty than an actual raid since Sinclair barely kept anything in the safe in the wine cellar (Atlas called it a 'secret room' when in reality it was just a wine cellar to keep drunks from making off with his alcohol). Sure, there was a safe down there, but Sinclair mostly kept some rainy-day funds inside along with a few guns incase things got crazy in the bar area.

I stayed away from her as much as I could, but I still found myself watching from a distance to see how she was faring & to intervene without being seen when there were far too many Splicers for them to handle.

She never made any attempt to contact me or Sinclair which was fine by me...

But if she was going to be crawling around in the vents, I at least had to give her a bit of a hand even if I didn't like it. The only thing going through my mind as I crawled through the vents with a piece of chalk writing different directions on the sides was that she _was_ a friend & I still felt responsible for her. I wrote down the names of the main areas Atlas & his band of morons mostly went & finally dropped out of the vent once I arrived at Apollo Square once again.

Now I wouldn't feel guilty if she gets killed by a crawler in the vent.

I worked hard to collect enough supplies from apartments long abandoned or the residents still dead within so that Sinclair & I could still eat to keep up our strength. It was mostly canned goods like fruit & meat, but it was better than starving to death in this place. I even learned how to hack the vending machines to access a few of the food items inside (earning a few electric burns in the learning process). We stayed mostly in Sinclair's office in the Sinclair Tower, but I still returned to my apartment to sleep somewhat decent instead of on his shark leather couch.

I awoke one night with a jolt from someone banging on my door. I sat up sharply, listening for any sign that it was a splicer trying to break his way in, but the pounding was too systematically, the raps like that of someone desperately trying to gain my attention. Well, they had it.

I got up adjusting the pair of night shorts I wore along with my nightshirt (a gift from Sinclair as a joke), walking silently to the door as the pounding got harder. I glanced through the peep hole & my mind was nearly blown. I opened the door sharply & glared at Camille who had none other than Atlas & Diane behind her. I almost said 'Camille', but quickly switched back to, "Betty? What in the hell are you doing here?"

Camille gave an apologetic smile & responded, "I was hoping you would listen."

I shifted my stance & crossed my arms, my eyebrows knitting together. "And am I going to like what I'm possibly going to listen to?"

"More than likely not."

I sighed & allowed my _former_ (I use the word hesitantly) friend inside followed by the man who made my blood boil & the woman who I could care less about. Camille sat herself down on my couch while Atlas stood off to her right with his arms crossed. Diane took a seat hesitantly next to Camille, looking around like being in my apartment again was a foreign thing. "All right, I'm listening."

"What? No offer of coffee?" Atlas made a jab.

"Shut your mouth," I hissed almost immediately after he made the comment. He didn't flinch; only smiled & shifted his stance to get more comfortable.

Camille cleared her throat loudly catching both of our attentions. "Hawkeye," She started, returning to the little moniker so that Atlas wouldn't know my real name. Chances are he knew who my mother was & that was something I didn't want getting out, even to Camille since Dusky Donovan was a popular name at the Pearl even if she was dead. "We're planning an attack on Ryan himself to get his genetic key. We poured over the maintenance tunnel maps day in & day out but found no clear way into Hephaestus without tripping some sort of alarm. Except..."

"Except the ventilation shafts," I filled in the blanks of what they wanted me to do: Play tour guide through the vents. I was just happy that she didn't dance around the subject of asking for my help.

"Correct," Diane chipped in her 5 cents but was quickly silenced again by a glare I sent her way.

"The ventilation shafts are our only shot at getting Ryan or at least the key. You're the only person still sane that knows the vents."

I nodded at that fact since the only other people who shared the vents with me were the Crawlers & even then, they crawled around randomly with no destination in mind other than finding ADAM & killing whoever stood in their way. "And who came up with this brilliant plan? Boy wonder?" I cocked my head at Atlas who narrowed his eyes in response.

She straightened her back & answered, "I came up with it since I know Ryan's office best. You know the ventilation system & guaranteed you've already accounted for tunnel collapses & hot spots for the splicers in the vents."

I averted my eyes for a second before they returned to Camille. "And why on earth would I want to help you?"

Atlas took a step towards me & said, "We get the genetic key ta Rapture & that means we have access to the bathyspheres: A way out."

I glared harshly & snapped, "Even for Augustus Sinclair?" Atlas was killing Camille's chances at getting me to cooperate here.

Atlas sighed & reluctantly nodded. It seemed promising Sinclair a way out of this place was the same as pulling teeth with a pliers, but if he wanted me to help I had to guarantee Sinclair's safe passage out.

"So we have a deal?" Atlas questioned, holding out his hand.

I stared at it & promptly ignored it looking to Camille. "Here's how it will go though," I started to count off on my fingers, "You will follow every instruction I give with no hesitation. Any questions & I will leave you to flounder in those vents. There is only one speed: My speed. Can't keep up, I will leave you behind. Splicers roam around constantly in the vents & will snatch you up if you don't move fast enough."

I felt a slight burn of the 'ATLAS' scar & finally realized which arm I had used to list off my conditions. Atlas was staring at it a look of pure shock. My fist clenched & I brought my arm to rest on my stomach protectively. Atlas made no notion to ask about it & just shook his head like he was trying to shake the image from his mind.

"You will meet me on top of the King Pawn building tomorrow night. You will bring what you need, but remember: The vents are small & can't carry much," I finished turning toward my door. I opened it up wide & gestured for them to leave.

Atlas smiled appreciatively & gave me a nod. He was the first to leave with Diane on his tail like a lovestruck puppy. Camille stopped in the door frame & glanced back at me. "Why did you agree?"

I scratched at the raised scarred skin of my arm, unconsciously tracing the carving. "Because sitting around waiting for Ryan to croak isn't getting anywhere. I still think you're an idiot for throwing your lot in with Atlas, but I don't control your life."

"How is Sinclair?"

"Took your leaving pretty hard. He was still hoping that you'd come back."

"When you see him: Tell him I'm sorry."

"Duly noted. Now get out. I still have to catch up on some sleep."

Camille opened her mouth to retort but decided against it. Instead, she turned on her heel & followed Atlas & Diane back to the Little Sister Orphanage no doubt.

Atlas was getting desperate: That was for sure. With the pheromone getting spread around, no doubt Atlas was loosing troops & fast since he couldn't maneuver with the same finesse in places like Athena's Glory without causing a stir forcing him to remain in the drop zones of the pheromone. This attack on Ryan was a gutsy move, but smart to a point - still borderline suicidal.

I ran a hand through my long hair & looked at it blankly. A nasty run-in with a splicer had me questioning whether I should keep my hair as long as it is since the splicer managed to grab my braid & pull hard. I almost had my throat slit for ADAM I didn't possess.

Perhaps it was time for a hasty haircut...


	28. Rapture Crash

Dymond: The last chapter before Jack makes his appearance. This whole chapter might turn into something of a clusterfuck with a purpose. Bare with me while this whole thing plays out!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~(The squiggles need new hooks)

I sat on top of the King Pawn sign, watching a woman scream as she was dragged away by some Splicer by her long, caked-with-blood blonde hair. I could have cared less anymore since it was something I saw more than I'd like to. My hand snaked up to the choppy, surprisingly even switchblade-haircut I had given myself to be rid of the long hair I had grown over the years. My head still felt lighter like it was going to float off my shoulders. Sinclair would freak when he saw my hair, but until then I would keep quiet.

I still had no idea why I was here aside from doing this for Camille. Someone like me could easily get into Ryan's office & _take_ the genetic key since I almost always had the element of surprise; just a wallflower watching from the background. I would have been the last person that Ryan would have expected to come to him, but I digressed, if Ryan had an army on hand it would be a nightmare to get back out & surely I wouldn't make it to the vents.

I glanced around at the ever changing Pauper's Drop, clearly under Lamb's matriarchy. Her little flock had posted several dozen posters depicting Lamb as their savior over the posters of Atlas & covered the walls with Anti-Ryan slogans. And I swear I saw the hulking mass that used to be a tiny runt named Leo Hartwig running around about the size of a full grown gorilla.

"That girl'd better show up," I heard the tell-tale Irish accent of Atlas echo around the mostly empty plaza. Oh man of little faith, I hope you choke on something sharp. Just saying.

"She'll be here," Camille defended rather slowly meaning even she was doubting that I'd show up.

"She didn't specify a time." And of course they brought Diane with them.

"She'll know when we're here." I smiled at the slight reference to the fact that I enjoy saying 'Hawkeye is always watching'.

They were packing heat, that was for sure: Atlas carried a shotgun in his arms with another slung over his back. There was a pistol on his hip & a knife strapped to his boot for emergencies. Diane had a satchel with her as well as a machine gun that she was unconsciously looking over & performing several function checks to make sure the gun would work properly & not jam up. Camille carried around the pistol gifted to her from Fontaine with a bit of an upgrade it seemed along with her bag that no doubt held extra rounds for it as well as grenades.

And what did I have? My switchblade. But I was just a guide so the knife was mostly for close quarters.

I finally stood up from my perched & dropped, landing in a crouch in front of the trio visibly startling Diane. Camille & Atlas didn't even flinch - Camille used to it by now & Atlas... I'm sure nothing surprised him anymore. "You came prepared," I said brushing my pants as I stood straight up.

"This is a big deal," Diane remarked, nodding like she was answering a question. "We don't leave anything to chance."

"Then we'd better get moving," I suggested, gesturing for them to follow me. I led them to the designated vent that would take us to Hephaestus.

The air was visibly stale from the lack of clean air. The fan in these vents had long since broken from a stupid splicer deciding it was a good idea to try & go through them for a quicker route to Apollo Square. We still got air, but it wasn't the best.

I moved quick, the others struggling to keep up, but I couldn't say I didn't warn them because I did. Everyone was silent at least so that no one would alert a nearby crawler. Only once we had to stop when I heard the clinking of the metal hooks on the metal of the vents along with a manic cackle from the owner. The switchblade was quickly out of my sleeve & clenched tightly in my fingers.

I had to stop Atlas from cocking his pistol since shooting in the vent was both stupid & dangerous.

A little over an hour went by & I finally pulled up a vent cover & dropped into one of the Hephaestus workshops. It was hot as hell from the magma flowing through the place & for a moment I felt sorry for my mother who used to work her, but disregarded the thought as quick as it came. The bitch was dead, so what did it matter? "We made it," Camille panted out, wiping her hand across her face.

I heard Atlas & Diane drop out shortly after she said that & I glanced back at them. "We ain't out of the fucking woods yet. Be alert," I warned quietly as to not draw attention to ourselves.

The workshops still looked like a slaughterhouse with bodies strewn about, some with bullet holes in various body parts while others were torn apart by makeshift weapons like the hooks the crawlers use. "What in the hell happened here?" Diane nearly gasped, her breath shaky.

"In-fighting. Working so close to Ryan, a lotta people got crazy. Some wanted to kill him, others wanted to fight for him." My thoughts momentarily flashed to the charred body of McDonagh & I glanced at Camille at the same time. It was more than likely her fault that Bill decided to go after Ryan. "It was a bloody circus down here."

"Did anyone get close to killing Ryan?" Diane asked tearing me from my remorseful thoughts of Bill.

"Yeah," I replied a little bitter. "They're hanging on his trophy wall."

We continued on, the trio doing most of the work with dispatching Splicers while my switchblade remained tucked in my sleeve once again. They looted their corpses for anything of use, finding things like spare ammunition & bits of snacks from the vending machines. Atlas was getting restless though. "Where's Ryan's office? This is just tha workshops!"

No shit. "We use the workshops to _get_ to Ryan's office, dumbass. There's no direct route. What, do you think he just has open vents in his office? He's not stupid." Atlas seemed to huff in annoyance with having me take the lead. He'd have to suck it up for 20 more minutes.

We crawled through yet another vent into an adjoining maintenance workshop & I stopped the group's movement immediately. Splicers had dug themselves in with turrets & proximity mines laid out to prevent anybody from getting close. Camille pressed a revolver in my hand & my fingers curled around the grip, my finger dancing over the trigger.

We ran for cover behind overturned furniture, firing a few defensive shots at the splicers who returned fire. The turrets almost made it impossible to pop out from cover. Camille took a risky move & leaned out to lob a grenade behind the barricade. It helped, but she took a graze to her leg. The explosion killed most of the splicers & set off a chain reaction of exploding turrets. I dared to stand up from cover to watch it only to drop back down when debris flew towards me threatening to slice me in half. It was spectacular, but the near death experience didn't help.

I waited until it was quiet before coming out again. Atlas let out a small victory whoop & grinned. Camille staggered her way out of cover, once again having been injured during a splicer fight. At least it wasn't the worst she's ever had. "Nice one, Betty,' Atlas praised, clapping her on the shoulder. He then noticed the pain on her face. "Ya okay?"

"Just grazed me, that's all. Not bad," She said through clenched teeth. I shook my head at her stubbornness.

Atlas made a makeshift bandage regardless from his shirt & tied it around her thigh. "We'll get ya fixed up when we get outta here, 'kay?" She nodded in agreement.

I rolled my eyes & said, "We need to get moving. Ryan probably already knows something's up. I watched a nearby camera move away from our position. It was more than likely that Ryan already knew we were here from that camera alone. I led them to another vent much more quickly than before. The temperature had gotten increasingly warmer from the rest of the vents, but we were getting closer to the magma pipes.

"Slow it down!" Atlas grunted after me. "We'll lose ya."

I rolled my eyes & snorted, "Wouldn't _that_ be a shame." I wished I could lose Atlas, take Camille & get the fuck out of here.

We finally dropped into the atrium & Camille quickly glanced around. My eyes fell on Bill's decaying body, the most visible one to me among the other dozen bodies hanging like game on the wall. "Bill," I said flatly to Camille, jerking my chin toward his corpse.

Camille let out a gasp. "Oh God..." Her fingers tightened on her shotgun.

"Come on. We've got a key to find."

Diane's head moved around. "Ryan's office is just through there..." she murmured gesturing to the locked door.

"There's the vent we'll be taking into the next chamber, adjacent to his office," I explained, pointing to the grate we'd be pulling off. The others stared curiously at the wires crackling with blue electricity attached to the door. "Magnetic lock," I pointed out. "Powered by an off-site generator. Ryan's a paranoid bastard."

"Good thing we ain't walkin' through the front door," Atlas remarked dryly. If I actually liked him, I would have found that a bit funny.

We made our way across the atrium using the shadows as cover. Two cameras stood in the way of us getting to Ryan & Camille quickly shot them both clean through the lenses. She wasn't quick enough._ "It seems there's an infestation... _Atlas _& his merry band of rats have found their way to my door. How bold!"_

"Oh goddammit," Atlas cursed. We were so close...

_"Obviously the current state of affairs has taught you nothing. This is _my_ city! My citizens are exceedingly loyal & won't let you anywhere near me. I don't know what foolish impulse compelled you to come here - especially _you_, Diane - but it was a foolish impulse nonetheless. It seems I shall have to find room for four more trophies..."_

The lights went out & I spread my stance, gun at the ready to shoot anything that moved at this point (even Atlas). Crazed laughter echoed around the atrium along with the tell-tale sounds of plasmids crackling & hissing. Shit was about to hit the fan...

Security bots appeared almost out of no where, beeping in alarm at us ready to take fire. "_Run!_" Diane shrieked trying to run for the doors, but the doors had already sealed shut thanks to Ryan.

Smoke flooded the atrium & I automatically knew it was the pheromone. My nose was pressed into my sleeve & I shouted, "He's trying to suffocate us!"

That was when the splicers swarmed us, plasmids of all types nipping at us. I nearly screamed in pure agony when one of the splicers managed to land a stream of Electrobolt on me. I barely had the strength to turn around & stick a bullet in his skull. Bots exploded overhead from well-placed shots from Camille, but the shower of shrapnel rained almost on top of me, cutting up my flesh with bits of hot metal. My switchblade was in my hand & the blade flipped open, imbedded in the chest of a splicer that got too close for comfort.

Diane hurled grenades to try & dissipate the group around her which gave us some light when they detonated. It succeeded in sending them back & giving her a moment to breathe. Atlas blasted his shotgun into as many splicers as he could, but a stray hook clipped his shoulder, the second missing him.

I stabbed another splicer in the back of the neck & flipped over his shoulder, my hand replacing the knife's place. With a burst of strength, I launched the body over my shoulder into another splicer that had flipped off Camille. I stuck two rounds in her chest as quickly as I could to prevent any more damage from coming to Camille.

I barely had time to turn around when a spider splicer seemed to appear behind me, clasping his limbs around my torso. I knew exactly what was going to happen, but I couldn't even squirm, the effects of the Electrobolt making it difficult. Before he could make the jump to take me elsewhere, Camille dove for his legs, knocking us to the ground. I used that to escape & leap to my feet, slamming my foot down on his face several times until something cracked in his skull. For paranoia's sake, I put a round in between his eyes.

I grabbed Camille's arm & pulled her to her feet. "We're getting out of here!" I shouted over the gunfire.

"Diane!" Camille protested, "_Atlas! _I can't leave them! They'll die!"

"And we'll _all_ die if we stay here!" I grabbed her wrist & tugged her toward the vent that would get us out of here.

The room illuminated from Diane's grenades & it was obvious that there were more splicers than we could deal with. My arm gave a jerk when a splicer leapt on Camille. I went for the shotgun just as she desperately grabbed a hold of a wrench & gave the splicer a good crack in the skull with it. I finished it off with an electrified buckshot.

My lungs burned from the smoke & I choked out, "We can't _breathe_! We need to go!" Sinclair was waiting.

We ran as fast as we could for the vent, Camille giving one last backwards glance at the two she was leaving behind. I couldn't have cared less as long as we got out with our limbs still intact. I had her drag herself into the vent first with me right behind her. "Go!" I urged giving her rear-end a push. "Damn you!"

She crawled obediently, which I was grateful for, listening to my instructions & directions without question. Camille was slowly losing consciousness from the hit to the head she suffered, but I kept her going, unwilling to lose her now. I got her into the next vent & got her moving more. "Don't nod off on me. Move your ass, Adler!"

What seemed like a miracle, we made it back to Pauper's Drop. I managed to drag her to the King Pawn store & sat her down against the ledge. I placed my hand on the bleeding wound on the side of her head & noted her dilated pupils. "You're probably concussed," I diagnosed stuffing the revolver into the waist of my trousers.

"No shit..." She groaned moving her hand up to wipe some of the blood away. "I left them. I left them to die."

"We're not dead. That's all that matters," I pointed out & raked my fingers through my now short hair. I barely noticed the blood pooling out of my sleeve & a cough raged against my lungs & throat. "We need to get somewhere safe." Safe mostly for Camille. I had already picked out a location for Sinclair to hide should the time arise, but Camille needed to be scarce for a while. And there was only one other person in this city that anyone could count on to be sane. "I think I know where to go."

I hauled her to her feet & helped her down from the roof. Camille protested each movement, desperately wanting to sleep, but I kept pushing her on. "One more hour, tops. And then you can sleep on a somewhat comfortable bed," I reassured, tightening my grip on her arm to help her keep standing.

Apollo Square was surprisingly quiet for the most part as we neared the destination I had in mind. My muscles twitched still from the Electrobolt I took, but I promptly ignored it. I had things to do than worry about what a little bit of electricity would do to me.

I finally banged on the door to a closed off maintenance office & shouted, "Tenenbaum!"

Camille perked up at the kraut scientist's name. She grabbed my shoulder a little roughly & asked, "You knew where she was this whole time?"

I tore my shoulder away from her & said, "You never asked." Another cough wracked my body, tearing apart my lungs. Camille gave me a slightly sympathetic look at the coughing fit, but I ignored it. I banged on the door again & shouted again, "Don't make me break the door down, Tenenbaum!"

The door finally slid open to reveal a very annoyed german scientist dressed in a nightgown. "What is it you want?" she questioned, her accent as thick as ever. Tenenbaum's harsh gaze at me quickly softened when it switched over to Camille. "Miss Adler! Bring her inside," She ushered us both inside & locked the door behind us.

There were bunk beds lining the walls of the abandoned maintenance office, each bed holding one or two little girls: former Little Sisters. They had already started to doodle on the walls & floors in crayon depicting their views of what the sun looked like & pictures of their former Big Daddies about as detailed as a child could draw with crayons. A few woke up with a stir, gave us a tired glance before setting back under the sheets & returning to their dreamlands. I stared at them thinking only one thing: they were just like me; robbed mostly of a childhood & living in a state of hell finding solace only in their dreams.

I almost could imagine a young Jamie Donovan sleeping on the steps of a storefront before Grace took mercy on me. Clenching my jaw, I followed Tenenbaum & Camille to Tenenbaum's office so that Camille could get her head check out by the kraut. I stayed outside to allow them some privacy & gazed around at the little girls all asleep.

I jumped when a little hand reached out & tugged on my shirt. The little girl shot back a little frightened that I would hurt her for touching me. "I'm sorry..." she muttered clutching one of those Big Daddy dolls that the Little Sisters liked to make.

I sighed & knelt down to her level. "No, I'm sorry for scaring you. You just startled me, that's all. What are you doing still awake?" I questioned giving her a slightly forced smile. Smiling seemed to be a luxury in this time of age.

She wrung the Big Daddy doll nervously & admitted, "I-I had a nightmare."

Nightmares. I shook my head & glanced back at the office: the door was still shut. Carefully, like she was made of glass, I lifted her up into my arms & walked over to her bunk. I sat down on the creaky mattress & balanced her on my knee. "What did you have a nightmare about?"

She sniffed & explained, "It was about monsters. I'm afraid they'll get me!" She buried her face in my shoulder & my arms immediately went around her, shushing her cries.

"There, there. The monsters won't get you," I reassured.

She looked up at me again with tear filled eyes. "How do you know that?"

"Because..." I went through what I could say to an 8-year-old little girl & smiled again. "Because everyone has a hero watching out for them. That hero can be anybody. Could even be Tenenbaum."

"Even you?" Her mood seemed to brighten a little.

My lips twitched at the innocent question, but in the end I nodded. "Even me."

"You'll keep me safe from the monsters?" Again, I nodded. "I'm Ruth."

"Jamie."

"Could you sing to me?"

Giving in to the child's pleading eyes, I rocked her lightly & softly sang in her ear a song by the Pied Pipers (the only thing I could really think of). When I heard her breathy snores, I tucked her in & placed the Big Daddy doll under her arm. I noticed she was still wearing the dress that they give the Little Sisters & I shivered. I couldn't imagine what it would be like to have a slug imbedded in your stomach driving you to find ADAM.

I stood up fully when I heard the door open & Tenenbaum step out. "She is asleep," she reported, crossing her arms. "What are you doing?"

I shifted my stance & chose silence. Tenenbaum noted how the little girl was sleeping better than before & returned her attention to me. "She would not tell me. What were you doing before you came here?"

"It doesn't matter. We failed & we're still trapped here."

Something sparked in the kraut's eyes. "You went after Ryan." I nodded. Tenenbaum snapped her fingers & said, "You are that spy working for Sinclair."

"And you know that how?" I sized up the slightly taller woman.

"You are not the only one who watches, bitte." She retorted. "Now tell me: How did you know I was here?"

I threw her words back at her, "I watch. A distraught kraut? Kinda hard to miss."

I shouldered past her toward the door to leave. "Where are you going?" she called after me.

I stopped & glanced back at her. "I got Camille to safety. Now I have to take care of someone else."

"Herr Sinclair."

"The one & only. Make sure Camille doesn't do anything stupid. I can't babysit her all the time." The door slammed shut behind me.

I stuffed my hands in my pockets & glanced up at the glass ceiling. Some year 1960 was turning out to be...

The surface of the ocean suddenly seemed to explode in a fury of hellfire & something massive hit the water. "What in the...?" I gasped taking a few steps back from it. "Is that... a plane?"


	29. Rapture Newcomer

Dymond: YAY! Jack is coming! Hurrah! I'm also going to dip into a cyanide sweet tooth & have a touching moment between Sinclair & Jamie (that actually mirrors what happened to _me _the other day with my new boyfriend Chris Smith. Shameless, just like my dear CaliforniaStop. Now that I'm on Xray, I'm going to have plenty of time to work while my fractured ankle heals up.

AND I FOUND A SCRIPT! HUZZAH!

I've got Bioshock Infinite on hold, so the moment it comes out, dat bitch is mine! HAHA! Well, I'm out. Peace!

ONWARD!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~(RAPTURE SQUIGGLES!)

My feet touched down on the tiled floor of the Welcome Center; a place I hadn't been in since Ryan's police opened fire on the citizens trying to escape, hence the abandoned steamer trunks & picket signs still strewn about. I had moved as quick as I could through the vents to beat the bathysphere here so I could get a glimpse of the newcomer to the city... A newcomer in the genetic ballpark of Ryan & his inner circle. I ducked into the shadows as a man took careful, paranoid steps toward the bathysphere port, a gun clenched tightly in his hands. He held a small two-way radio in the palm of his hand, stroking the casing like it was a lifeline.

"Okay..." He said into the radio. "Just one more minute. The sphere... The sphere's coming up now!"

_"Johnny, security's banging off all over, getta move on!"_ I froze at the familiar voice coming from the radio. No way that was Atlas! I was sure he was dead.

Johnny got closer to the port & failed to notice a dark, slightly disfigured female splicer drop down behind him. I had half the mind to shout 'Watch out!', but I held my tongue knowing there were more in the area. He must have heard her straggled breathing & he spun around watching her inch forward with her hooks poised to attack. "Please, lady... I didn't mean no trespass. Just don't hurt me!" He begged pathetically, throwing the gun to the ground. The bathysphere breached the surface. "Just let me go. You can keep my gun. You can-" The splicer shot forward & slashed Johnny's stomach. Before he could crumple, she was on him again with her hooks buried deep within his belly. Flesh was torn apart as she eviscerated him, letting his body drop into the water the bathysphere came from.

"Is it someone new?" she nearly purred gazing curiously at the bathysphere window.

It was dark, granting neither of us visibility of who was inside. She let out a screech similar to that of a banshee & leapt on top of the bathysphere, slashing furiously on the metal to get at the stranger inside. She screamed when one of her hooks broke, remaining permanently imbedded in the outer shell of the bathysphere. She pulled viciously at the wiring inside cutting off the power completely.

With a loud groan, she hopped off the top & landed in a crouch with her back to the window. She glared back at whoever was inside & bounded away to hide. She darted right past me & I pressed tighter into the wall to avoid being spotted.

The heavy door to the bathysphere slowly opened & a young man in his mid-twenties stepped out visibly shaking after that whole ordeal. He was gripping the emergency shortwave radio from inside bathysphere close, speaking into it quietly. His dark brown hair was soaked from his swim in the Atlantic & his even darker brown eyes dripped of fear as they darted around, looking for any place that splicer could have hidden. His jaw was square & surprisingly strong for his thin build, but still held something a baby face like he had yet to really be backhanded by puberty. His shoulders were a little broad for his body.

His cream colored sweater had seen better days since it was soaked & clung to his thin frame like it was painted on, his dark trousers no better & his shoes were waterlogged.

I moved more into the shadows & he must have noticed my movement since he jumped, his eyes falling where I was hiding. "H-Hey, Atlas? You still there?" He questioned, taking a few steps away from where I was.

_"Still here. We're watchin' ya, don't worry. Just get movin'."_

'We're'? Atlas wasn't alone? There was no way it was Diane since she would have said something by now... Fucking Camille Adler no doubt. Could she just follow simple instructions for once in her life? I shook my head & continued to watch him make his way to the main entrance that led into Rapture. _"We're goin' ta have ta draw her outta hidin', but you're goin' ta have to trust me."_ The man nodded unconsciously at the request & glanced around.

The main foyer had seen the brunt of the riots since this was the only way out of Rapture: a few bodies still littered the ground around the place, along with makeshift weapons & steamer trunks. One pillar was blown completely off the wall from a stray grenade & fell almost completely across the room. The front entrance had been blown to keep people from coming in from people from getting out during the shootout between a few of Atlas' thugs & Ryan's police.

The man inched toward the front entrance, jumping when he heard the female splicer announce, "I'll wrap you in a sheet..."

_"Just a bit further..."_ Atlas pushed, getting the man to move.

He got close to the fallen pillar & the splicer made her appearance, putting herself between the man & the entrance to Rapture. A bright security camera light flashed on the splicer & the alarm went off. Before she could even react, a security bot flew out of nowhere & opened fire on the unprepared splicer. _"How do you like _that_, sister?!"_

The splicer bounded away with the security bot hot on her tail & into the air duct she had previously crawled out of. The security bot gave chase & she screamed in pain from the bot hitting its mark. _"Now, would you kindly find a crowbar or something? Bloody splicers sealed Johnny in before they... goddamn splicers."_ It almost sounded like Atlas genuinely cared about Johnny which was a fat lie.

The man glanced around curiously & finally bent down, retrieving a heavy wrench. He gave it a few practice swings before deeming a suitable weapon for now. He walked to the caved in entrance & put his hand on the biggest piece of debris there. He gave it a few testing pushes & noted how easily it gave out. With a grunt, he pushed the debris out of the way & made his way into Rapture, no clue that he had just walked into hell. I followed quickly behind him & nearly gasped when I noticed a couch positioned at the top.

A splicer poked his head out from over the couch & immediately set fire to the couch. With a push, the couch came barreling down the stairs. The man stood frozen like a deer in headlights & I shouted, "Get out of the way!" I jumped over the remaining debris & my arm went around his torso. I slammed him roughly into the nearby wall & pressed against the wall beside him as the couch shot past & collided with the doorway we just came through.

My switchblade came out & I was up the stairs, jumping up & digging my knees into the splicers chest, using the momentum to send us both to the ground. Before the splicer could even comprehend what had just happened, the switchblade was stabbed up into his chin, killing him instantly.

The stranger finally reached the top of the stairs, looking like he had just met Death. "Wh-Who are you?" His eyes was traveling all over my person to see any clue that would indicate that I was one of those things that had attacked him, but he looked happy to see no boils or disfigured limbs: just a normal, somewhat healthy & sane human being.

"It's Hawkeye," I answered smoothly, wiping the blood on my switchblade off on my trousers. "And you came in the wrong place, stranger."

"It's Jack," He corrected a little more bravely.

"_Jack_," I repeated, putting the blade away & stuffing it in my pocket. "I've got places to be." I moved toward the bulkhead only to find that the damn splicer had broken it, preventing any dramatic exit. I sighed & moved to the opposite end of the room & crawled up the wall to the high ceiling & the air vent I needed.

"Wait!" Jack called after me. "I don't want to do this alone!"

I glanced back down & said, "Sorry, Jack, but as I said: I've got places to be. Maybe I'll see you around. Oh, & welcome to Rapture: the world's fastest growing pile of junk." Before Jack could argue, I was inside the vent. I laid on my back & stared at the metal walls. Jack was in for pure hell ahead of him, but he could use the bathyspheres... He could be mine & Sinclair's ticket out of here.

I would have to keep a close eye on Jack & make sure he stays alive wherever Atlas leads that poor man & if Atlas ends up getting Jack killed, then Atlas was in for a reckoning.

I flipped to my stomach & continued crawling to Sinclair's apartment where he was hiding out in until I came to move us. I fell through the vent that dropped right on top of Sinclair's bed & startled the man sitting at his vanity with a cigarette clamped between his teeth. There was quite a pile of spent cigarette butts scattered all over the vanity like he had been on a smoking binge since I had left him to go help Camille & he had another cigarette tucked behind his ear.

"Jamie!" He exclaimed standing up quickly. He paused when he noticed my hair, "When did you snip your hair, darlin'?" His hand reached out & stroked the short locks a little cautiously like my hair was going to fall off, but also with love.

"Yesterday morning. Sorry I was gone so long." He cupped my face & kissed me hard on the mouth.

"Just don't do it again. I was worried," He laughed.

I looked into his still bright emerald eyes, but noted how the bags under his eyes had gotten significantly darker from the lack of proper sleep in weeks. I almost let a wave of sadness run over me at how tired Sinclair must have been, but pushed it aside. We had more pressing matters to deal with. "We have to move," I said, picking up the bag I had dropped off prior. "I've found a place we can hide out, but its going to be a little bit of a nightmare to get there. Other than that, it's the most secure place I could find."

"And where is that?" Sinclair asked moving to the suitcase sitting on his bed. He closed the lid & latched it shut.

"Ryan Amusements..."

Sinclair looked faint.

It nearly 3 hours to pick our way through maintenance shafts & the final stretch of vents. Sinclair complained about the vents almost the whole time, asking how I did this every day. I just smiled at his whines saying that maybe he should have laid off the creme cakes. He retorted by pinching my butt making me jump & hit my head on the top of the vent. He was lucky I loved him.

We finally touched down in Ryan Amusements & made our way to the control/maintenance office sitting off to the side of the tram station. No splicer came in here since the trams had long since been shut down, cutting off access to anywhere in the city. The only way out was through the vents, but only the crawlers knew the way. I dared not see what the state of Ryan Amusements since there were a great deal of people trapped inside including an entire class of children being cared for by the sane adults. The kids... didn't make it despite the adults' best efforts. It was the adults who died first & then the splicers picked off a few of the kids. The rest starved to death.

I shook my head of the thought of those kids & hacked the door lock. The maintenance room still had power since it ran on its own generator since the amusement park took up enough power. There was a mattress with sheets & a blanket stuffed in the corner of the room from where that old grizzled sheepdog used to sleep on late nights when it took children forever to get out of the park & a suitcase of clothes sitting on the table close to the door. There was no sign of Davis Pittman, but I could have cared less.

Sinclair glanced around & nodded. "This'll do for now," He stated setting his suitcase down.

He glanced over at the monitors that showed different images from cameras all over the park. He paused at one where a little boy & girl were running from a splicer. He was gripping the little girl's hand & pulled her along while she was crying hysterically. Sinclair opened his mouth like he was going to say something, but I stopped him by saying, "There's nothing we can do."

The children were violently struck down by the splicer giving chase making him flinch. My eyebrows knitted together; Sinclair had always been kept away from the amount of death in the city, including that of the child population & never had to see what exactly was happening to several of the children. I almost felt guilty for keeping this all a secret, but what could I do?

Sinclair moved away from the monitors & stood behind me, wrapping his arms around my waist. I weaved my fingers between his own & pressed into his chest, enjoying his warmth in an otherwise cold environment. "Soon, we'll reach the surface," He muttered, kissing the skin of my neck. "We'll make it to dry land. And when we do..." He spun me around & brought me in for a romantic kiss. "It'll be my turn to take care of you."

"I'm starting to think you just trying to butter me up," I teased, my finger tracing circles on his shoulder.

"If you're _just_ startin' to think, then obviously I'm doin' something wrong here," He smirked then looked to the mattress. "Let me show you just how much I love you."

I glanced at the mattress then back at Sinclair. I smiled & nodded.


	30. Rapture Destruction

Dymond: I'M SOO SORRY THIS HAS TAKEN SO LONG TO GET OUT! I'm always working & when I get back to my dorm, all I do is crash on my bed & not wake up until the next day & then I'm getting ready for my next shift of CQ. I hope this will make up for it! And yes, Sinclair & Jamie finally had sex.

I drove my brother a little crazy since I kept calling him up & asking him to do stuff & ending each one with a 'would you kindly'. Guess what my brother's name is? That's right: Jack. It's hilarious.

And in this chapter Jamie figures out who Atlas really is from Frank Fontaine himself. Read & find out why.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~(The squiggles need new hooks. Each new review gives the squiggles more hooks)

When I awoke, I was surprisingly warm for the first time since I had come to Rapture. Even when I was bundled into a heavy comforter Grace would loan me there was always a cold chill nipping at my nose like Jack Frost. No, I was perfectly warm from my nose straight down to my toes despite the thin blanket that covered my naked body.

I shifted slightly only to find my movements constrained by the arms around my waist along with a solid weight pressed into my back & a nose tucked into the crook of my neck inhaling my scent like a drug. Sinclair looked almost peaceful despite the hell surrounding us, content as a feline having caught the mouse after years of chasing the rodent. I smiled at his expression & bent awkwardly to press a kiss to his temple.

For all the years I've known Sinclair, I never thought that it would get to this point, not that I was complaining. I wasn't exactly the type to really settle down after years of fighting off things that really should only exist in scary stories told to keep children in line, my body learning from each mistake & a new scar added to the growing story told in nothing but scars. Even if we had the chance to get topside, there was no guarantee of our future: I was too far hardened into this life to drop it & turn into a regular housewife. For now, at least, I would enjoy what I had with Sinclair's love & affection.

Very carefully, I shimmied out of Sinclair's embrace & reached for his discarded white button-up shirt, slipping it over my thin frame. My feet touched the cold tiled floor of the maintenance office causing a shiver to run up my spine. I wrapped my arms deftly around myself in response to fight off the chill that had returned & padded my way over the the monitors. Each screen held a different picture of a different camera angle throughout Ryan Amusements like in the El Dorado Lounge & the pathetic excuse for a ride called Journey to the Surface, designed to scare the piss out of small children & people born in Rapture who had never seen the sun. There was the occasional splicer milling about, absentmindedly swinging a makeshift weapon or fiddling with a revolver.

I glanced back at where Sinclair had dumped his suitcase, noting Camille's revolver still sitting atop the tanned leather lid of the suitcase. A decent person would return the weapon to their rightful owner, but Camille seemed more intent on getting herself shot than actually shooting something with the revolver so for now the revolver would remain in my possession.

My fingers tapped on the keyboard that controlled most of the cameras & each screen changed to a different part of Rapture, Atlas' own hacking skills opening the door to let me in. One screen in particular caught my attention. Looking the scenery over, I quickly realized that I was looking straight into Fort Frolic. And entering the scene was none other than the newcomer from the surface: Jack.

The poor man had seen better days for sure from the amount of injuries he possessed, hastily bandaged up by inexperienced hands. I almost didn't catch the soft glow his hands were emitting meaning that he had spliced up to fight off the splicers. Fight fire with fire, almost a good decision except that if Jack didn't get out soon he'd succumb to ADAM addiction. Jack made his way to the bathysphere port, the bulkhead shutting behind him.

Splicers shot out of the woodwork, each setting up a wire trap that stretched from one end of the room to the other which only meant trouble for Jack. More than likely, Sander Cohen had hijacked the bathysphere preventing any chance for Jack to continue on to where ever Atlas was sending him. As predicted, the bulkhead door opened again & Jack took a few steps, only to stumble back when a splicer dropped down in front of him, leaping at him & viciously swinging the meat hooks. The screen suddenly went white with the words 'please stand by' going across the screen. "The hell?" I questioned tapping on the glass of the monitor.

Cohen had jammed the signal to the cameras. Great.

I nearly leapt out of my skin when Sinclair's arms encircled me again. I was so focused on the screen I didn't even hear him approach me, but I had to remind myself that I didn't need to keep my guard up around Sinclair knowing that he wouldn't stick a shiv in my spine when my back was turned. Old habits die hard, I guess. "Who was that?" He questioned, gesturing to the blanked out screen with his chin. I took note how he had gotten on a pair of trousers to shelter himself from the cold, but didn't bother to button up the trousers.

"A newcomer," I answered, turning my head to look at him. "His name's Jack. Poor kid has no idea what is going on."

"Kid? I'm fairly certain you both are close in age."

I suppose Jack looked roughly in his mid-20s, a year or so separating us perhaps. I shook my head & removed myself from Sinclair's arms. I walked back over to the mattress & scooped up my discarded clothing, slipping each one on one at a time. "Where are you goin'?" Sinclair questioned, propping a fist on his waist.

"There's something I have to look in to. Then I have to find the newcomer. I'll return before the day is out," I reassured, fastening the last buttons on my own shirt, returning Sinclair's to him.

Sinclair looked a little hurt that I had to leave, but I rectified to look by placing a kiss on his lips as an unspoken promise that I would return. "Darlin', I worry 'bout you goin' out there," He voiced when I stuffed Camille's revolver in the hem of my trousers.

I stopped my preparations right then. "Augustus? Is everything all right?" I questioned, my eyebrows furrowing.

"No. For years, I have watched you go out there & each time I wondered if you'll ever return. I've seen you act strong even through your pain & I've seen you broken down to nothin' but a shell." I flinched, knowing he was referring to when I had walked out of Sullivan's interrogation room nothing more than an empty shell. Sinclair cupped my face with his hands, staring straight into my eyes. "I don't want to lose you."

I gripped Sinclair's hands & smiled to try & settle his fears. "It's going to take a lot more than a few splicers to take me down. I'll be back before you even know it. And you can see where I go on the cameras," I pointed out, gesturing to the screens again. "I'll be back, Augustus." I kissed him again before spreading from him. "Lock the door behind me."

He nodded solemnly & I was outside the safety of the maintenance room. I glanced back at the bulkhead to ensure that Sinclair had, in fact, locked it & broke into a run to get the the vent I needed to get to my first stop: Fontaine's office in Fontaine Futuristics. I had a curiosity that was itching at the back of my skull since I had first seen the inside of the room & that was the random boar hanging he had hanging in his office. It seemed out of place for a man like Fontaine whose tastes were more refined than to have an ugly boar hanging on his wall. I thoroughly blamed Camille for my thoughts on where Fontaine possibly could be since I had read her message to Bill.

And as much as I knew that Fontaine was a paranoid bastard, almost as bad as Ryan, I knew he had to have some sort of secret compartment to hide his valuables.

Fontaine's office was deserted when I arrived, not even a splicer was in view. Most had departed under the orders of Ryan to hunt down Jack & gut the poor man so I prayed that he would be okay when I found him. I was also surprised to find that not much damage had really been done to the place since the splicers had ransacked everything else.

I made my way quietly over to that boar head that had not been ripped from the wall even though all other photos had been ripped down (aside from the frieze that oddly looked like Fontaine's family that was mounted to the wall). I examined the boar over before placing my hands on the tusks & giving them a twist much like a steering wheel. I jumped when the boar's head moved along with my twist & gave an audible click.

The wall to my right slid open & I gapped at the shelves of alcohol imported from the surface & cases of Fontaine's favorite cigars & cigarettes (a few packs I took for Sinclair). An audio diary caught my eye, a thin layer of dust coating the Accu-Vox's plastic casing. I cocked my head to the side & took the recording off the shelf holding it in my hands. I had thought that Fontaine would have burned all the audio tapes of himself before Sullivan's boys came in to tear the place apart. I shook my head & pressed play. The Accu-Vox clicked on & Fontaine's heavy bronx accent poured out through the scratchy speakers, _"Every time Ryan turns up the heat, I know I'm a little bit closer to beatin' him at his own game. But now the game's changin': Ryan's boys are comin' in heavy lookin' to knock down _my _door & take what's _mine._ Like this is the first time I had to dodge a bullet._" Fontaine's tone was almost mocking at Ryan's plans to take out Fontaine once & for all. Fontaine _knew _that Ryan was coming & yet, he still let himself get killed. "_They're comin' to my house expectin' a show, but they're going to get a disappearin' act. Say goodbye to Fontaine,_" There was a pause on the recording & the sound of a shotgun being locked & loaded. _"And hello to Atlas."_ I dropped the recorder suddenly, the Accu-Vox crashing against the ground with a loud bang.

Camille's ramblings that Fontaine was still alive... were right?! My fingers carded roughly through my cropped hair, gripping the strands painfully tight. I had aided _fucking Frank Fontaine_ in his attempt to take down Ryan on several occasions. _Fucking Camille Adler_ had no idea she was in the presence of the conman that she was infatuated with, truly believing him to be an Irish revolutionary when I reality, he was just using his army of splicers & Camille to take down Ryan & take control of Rapture.

I scrambled to get out of the conman's office so I could find Jack & stop him from killing Ryan. I'm not sure what Fontaine had planned for Jack, but knowing him: Jack would not live long to figure out he's been betrayed.

Jack had long since left Fort Frolic, Cohen found standing in front of a sculpture made from the bodies of splicers, plaster & paint with pictures of his disciples dead in each picture. They were lucky now since they didn't have to suffer under Sander Cohen anymore. And since Jack was no longer in Fort Frolic, there was only one place that he was now if Fontaine was sending Jack as an assassin to kill Ryan: Hephaestus.

The place was the same since I had left it with bullets chasing me out the door. The revolver was in my grip in an instant when I dropped down into the workshops, quickly, but carefully making my way to the office of Andrew Ryan in hopes that I could stop Jack from giving control of Rapture over to Frank Fontaine. The reel with Fontaine's admission to being Atlas was tucked away in my trousers to prove it should any one question.

I pressed my back against the side of a vending machine & peered around the corner at a splicer wandering around, his own revolver poised to shot anything that moved much like my own. Taking a breath, I shot around the corner & planted a bullet in his skull, dropping him instantly before he could alert others to my presence.

A loud crash erupted around the area followed by a horrible screeching noise that made me cover my ears from the rattling it gave my eardrums. One of the Harmonic Cores went offline & one of the magma pipes fell off the side of the core completely. An EMP bomb, not bad. No doubt started by Kyburz who had never got the chance to finish it since he was violently killed by Pablo Navarro for money. Kyburz originally had doubts about it since if the bomb worked, it would trip the circuit breaker to Ryan's gate in theory. Otherwise, it would have blown up half of Rapture. Nothing ventured... "Found Jack," I muttered once the noise died down.

The security systems rang out forcing me to get out of sight of the bots as they flew past.

"RUN!" I heard a female shout & darting past me came Camille first followed by Jack, who grabbed her hand so he wouldn't lose her. Jack quickly took the lead being faster than the woman & narrowly avoided the bullets the security bots fired at them. I came out from cover & shot down two of them to ease up the firepower against the two. I ran to catch up to the two & ultimately stop Jack, but I underestimated how fast someone can run when they're terrified. _I can run faster scared than you can angry_.

I arrived in the atrium with Ryan's 'trophies' pinned up on the walls & I cursed loudly: Ryan's door was open meaning the bomb had indeed worked, but Camille & Jack were still no where in sight. I cursed again & started to run again, my legs starting to ache from the exertion I was putting myself through.

My balance was nearly thrown completely off when the whole area seemed to shake violently. _"Self-destruct mode activated. Please evacuate the city,"_ An automated voice chimed off & I groaned.

I continued into the main foyer of Ryan's office watching Camille & Jack disappear into a vent, taking a page out of my book. I ran up the stairs & crawled into the vent behind them only to come out into a sort of storage room with a cork-board mounted to the wall with a table in front of it. Coating the wall around the cork-board, the table & a few strewn across the floor were notes, theories & evidence of something in Ryan's handwriting. Pictures were pinned in the middle each connected by red string & I quickly recognized the people in the pictures. In the top right was a portrait of Andrew Ryan himself with a string connecting himself to a picture of Jasmine Jolene. Jasmine's picture then connected to a picture of Fontaine a little lower on the cork-board. Red string continued to connect Fontaine to Dr. Suchong & Tenenbaum. And finally at the center of it all was a picture of none other than Jack.

Spray painted across the cork-board in red were the words "WOULD YOU KINDLY". I had to find Jack...

I darted into the next room in time to see Andrew Ryan swing his golf club & clip Camille in the side of the head from her attempt to protect Jack, knocking her unconscious. Jack moved to swing a fist at Ryan for hurting the woman, but Ryan quickly asked, "Stop, would you kindly?" Jack's swing stopped immediately. "Would you kindly: A powerful phrase - a familiar phrase?" The younger man looked to be internally fighting with himself, remembering how many times Atlas had used the phrase. "Sit, would you kindly?"

Jack promptly planted his butt on the floor. The golf club stained with Camille's blood hooked under his chin & Ryan commanded, "Stand, would you kindly." Jack obeyed blindly. "Run!" Again, Jack obeyed darting across the room. "Stop! Turn." Ryan makes his way over to where Jack stood & I had the revolver leveled with Ryan's head ready to shoot the man should any harm come to Jack. Instead of striking Jack dead with the golf club, he handed the club to the frozen man. "A man chooses. A slave obeys. Kill!" He ordered & Jack swung the golf club against Ryan's head, sending him to the floor.

Ryan slammed into the floor, slowly getting to his knees again. "A slave _obeys_," He repeated, grabbing Jack's pants leg. Jack swung again emitting yet another sickening crunch of Ryan's skull & this time, it took everything Ryan had to get himself into a kneeling position. "OBEY!" Jack swung one last time, this time the club imbedded itself in Ryan's skull, breaking off from the handle.

Ryan slumped showing that he was dead. Jack's breath was heavy in the realization that everything he knew was a complete lie. "Jack?" I questioned, stepping closer.

He spun to face me with the broken golf club pointed as a weapon. "Did you know?! Did you know what I was?!" He shouted desperately, his eyes hoping that I didn't know at all.

And honestly, I didn't. I didn't even know that this was Andrew Ryan's son. "I don't."

Jack fell to his knees & cried, the broken rod of the golf club clanging pitifully against the floor. The ground continued to shake from the self-destruct sequence, but I ignored it & made my way to Camille's unconscious form. From the looks of her head injury, her concussion was a lot worse now & she would be waking up with a headache that not even aspirin could get rid of without overdosing. Jack's radio chimed to life, startling the broken man from his tears. _"Hurry now," _Atlas' voice came over the radio. _"Grab Ryan's genetic key! Now would you kindly put it in that goddamn machine?!"_ Jack stood obediently & fished the genetic key from Ryan's pocket.

"Jack! Jack stop!" I ordered chasing after him. "Atlas is not who he says he is!" Jack ignored me, the effects of the trigger phrase still in effect. "Jack!" He inserted the key into the machine & ultimately shut off the self-destruct sequence. I watched the screen at the top flash from Ryan Industries to Fontaine Futuristics. "No..."

_Atlas_, or rather: Fontaine, laughed over the radio & leered, _"Nice work, boyo!" _He laughed deeper, his voice becoming more malevolent than that of the Irish revolutionary. _"It's time to end this little masquerade. There ain't no Atlas, kid. Never was. Fellow in my line a work takes on a variety of aliases. Hell, once I was even a Chinaman for six months. But, you've been a sport, so I guess I owe you a little honesty. The name's Frank Fontaine. I got to say, I had a lot of business partners in my life, but you – course, the fact that you were genetically conditioned to bark like a cocker spaniel when I said, "_Would you kindly,"_ might have had something to do with it, but still. Now, as soon as that machine finishes processing the genetic key you just fished off Ryan, I'm going to run Rapture – tits to toes. You been a pal, but you know what they say: never mix business with friendship. Thanks for everything, kid. Don't forget to say, "Hi," to Ryan for me."_

Security blared off & I cursed, "Shit! We gotta go!" Rushing back into the previous room, I scooped Camille up & pulled her on to my back. I glanced up at the camera & knew that Sinclair was watching this all happen & I could only hope that he didn't watch me die in this place.

"This way!" A Little Sister shouted, directing us toward a nearby vent that I had used to escape the first time. Jack dove in first avoiding the flurry of bullets that the security bots were firing at him.

I pushed Camille in & followed close behind, narrowly avoiding the spray of bullets directed at me, just in time to see Jack take a nose dive down a deadfall that I didn't have time to warn him about. "JACK!" I shouted down to him, hearing him groan in response. He was still alive!


	31. Rapture Savior

Dymond: Another chapter! Jamie's going to be sticking with Jack for a while so that Fontaine doesn't slaughter his ass. Anywho, debating whether or not I should have Jamie splice up with at least one plasmid before the big fight with Fontaine. Review what you think I should do. I'm always reading the reviews & smiling when people do!

Cammy & Jamie have a little bonding moment where they can actually tolerate each other long enough _not_ to start a fight nor is anyone shooting at them. To each their own. -That reminds me of a quote my older brother said that made me laugh hysterically for about 20 minutes: "Some of us want to get married. And some of us want to do cocaine & wear sombreros. To each their own!"

I'm driving CaliforniaStop a little nuts since I'm just moving this RIGHT ALONG! HAHA!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~(Would the real Squiggles please stand up?)

To be back in Tenenbaum's little hideaway brought back memories since I had been here literally only a few days prior. Only difference was that the number of former Little Sisters had increased & all it took was for me to glance over at Jack to realize that Tenenbaum had given the man the cure for the Little Sisters & he had the heart to save them instead of taking all the ADAM for himself. There was more to Jack than meets the eye.

I hissed when Tenenbaum pressed a disinfectant soaked cloth to my bleeding forehead. "Easy, doc," I nearly growled, but caught myself when I noticed a few pairs of eyes on me.

"Bitte, you are covered in scars from lack of treatment. I can at least prevent this one," She scolded, giving the cut a few more dabs. She deemed it good enough & moved back to Jack who was still unconscious from the deadfall. For someone as small as him, he was heavy & with the added weight of Camille, I'm surprised I even made it to Tenenbaum much less out of the vents.

My eyes moved from Jack & Tenenbaum to Camille who sat in the corner of the room with her face buried in her arms, weeping softly into her tattered sleeves. She looked absolutely miserable, her golden hair had dulled significantly from the amount of stress she was under & being malnourished from only eating creme cakes & chips. Her once near flawless skin was littered in bruises & scars from the amount of abuse she endured from splicers & security bots trying to kill her. And that didn't even account for the emotional trauma she was suffering for someone who had originally enjoyed a life of high class & security unlike me who had grown up in chaos. It would come back to bite her in the ass in the near future, but for now she was adapting to it. But for now, Camille Adler was the strongest woman I had the pleasure of meeting & calling my friend.

I sighed & stood up, moving to sit next to the distraught female, wrapping my arms around my knees. "Go ahead: say it!" She whimpered, not bothering to look since she knew automatically that it was me.

"Say what?" I questioned.

"_I told you so_."

"You already told yourself that." I gave her a weak smile to comfort her, but it failed it's intended purpose.

I stiffened up when she scooted closer & laid her head on my shoulder, looking for a friend now instead of her arms for comfort. "You were right. My... _infatuation_," She spat the word out like it was poison, "with Fontaine would get me killed."

"But you're not dead," I pointed out, staring straight ahead to avoid looking her in the eye. There was a little group of girls sitting in a circle coloring on the floor of the sun & flowers, crayon depictions of their Big Daddies & surprisingly a picture of what I could guess was myself & Camille from the random brunette & blonde standing side by side, each with short hair to indicate that it was us. "Maybe it was that infatuation that kept you alive because Fontaine knew about it."

"Perhaps." She removed her head from my shoulder & looked me in the eye. "What do we do now?"

I jerked my chin at Jack & said, "We help him."

Camille sighed & rested her chin against her arms again. There was a long period of silence between us, not exactly unpleasant, but neither of us knew what else to say at that point. Then, Camille's gaze was on me again. "You never did tell me who you came down here with."

I was confused for a moment. "What?"

"You mentioned something about a relative."

"Of _all_ the things you could ask me: you ask about my relatives?" She shrugged, but still looked like she expected an answer. I sighed & answered, "I came here with my mother. Dusky Donovan was her name."

"Your last name's Donovan? The file..."

"Was mine. I'm not entirely sure how Steinman came across it, but it's in my possession now so that's all that matters. And Jack saw to Steinman's timely demise."

"What happened to your mother? You said 'was'."

I looked at the ground almost in shame of what my mother was. "She... She's dead. She overdosed on drugs."

"So now you really are Little Orphan Annie, aren't you?" Camille joked lightly, giving me a smile.

"I suppose, except I'm not a curly haired redhead & I was 25 when she died. I'm 26. I don't exactly qualify as a true orphan anymore," I laughed a little as the lightened mood.

Camille giggled as well & admitted, "I never could get used to you smiling at all." She nudged my side & smiled. "You normally had this look like you wanted to murder everyone in the room or you were looking like there was something stuck to the bottom of your shoe."

"The Drop was not a kind place for a kid."

She suddenly poked right at the junction where my neck met my shoulder & asked, "What's that?" She leaned in closer, examining whatever she had poked.

I bent my head to try & see what exactly she was pointing at, asking, "What's what?"

"Is that... Oh my god, that's a _hickey_." My hand automatically slapped down over the spot she had poked, growling under my breath about getting back at Sinclair later. "You & Augustus actually-"

"Drop it!" I hissed quietly not wanting to wake any more of the little girls from their slumbers.

"Oh that's rich!" She laughed quietly, wiping a tear from the corner of her eye.

Jack gave a groan & Camille & I leapt to our feet, both of us relieved that he had finally awoken. His hand flew to his head to try & quell the headache he no doubt had, but smiled when he noticed us standing not to far from him. "Welcome back, child," Tenenbaum called out from her little office, a cigarette perched between her fingers. "Welcome to the city where you were born."

"How...?" He glanced around at the makeshift orphanage Tenenbaum had set up for her 'little ones'.

"You are angry at Fontaine, yes?" Tenenbaum continued. "Now you know the truth. You are his tool, brought back to Rapture to save him. You have saved many of my Little Ones. I owe you a debt."

Jack slowly got to his feet, trying to stop the room from spinning. I walk over & place my hand on his back to steady him. "You okay?" I questioned, noting how dilated his pupils were. He nodded once & gave a crooked smile.

Tenenbaum blew out a stream of smoke & explained, "While you sleep, I undo some of Fontaine's mental conditioning. His control is no longer complete, but he can still pull some very unpleasant strings. We made your mind with many locks & keys. Fontaine has most of those keys, but not all. Dr. Suchong designed your mind, taught Fontaine to control you. You might find answers in Suchong's flat in Mercury Suites. Miss Hawkeye knows where to go, yes?"

I narrowed my eyes, but nodded altogether. It was true that Tenenbaum knew exactly who I was which made me wonder how she knew, but that was a question for another time. "Hero!" I jumped at the call & was caught severely off guard when a small blur slammed into the side of my leg, latching on with a grip I had no idea a child could possess.

"Ruth?" I questioned glancing down at the child & she looked up with a big grin on her face.

She detached herself from my leg to allow me to kneel to her height before to reattached herself around my neck. "You came back!" She cheered, causing my ear to ring from her shout.

"Yes, yes I did. But now I have to go again," I reminded her, gently detaching her arms from my neck. I held her out at an arms length. "Do you understand? I have to help this man." I pointed to Jack for a moment. "Can you show us the way out?"

"Yeah! Follow me! Follow me, mister!" She smiled brightly at Jack & took my hand in hers, pulling me in the direction to go. She led us up a separate set of stairs away from our original entrance, taking us toward the entrance to the maintenance tunnel below Olympus Heights of all places. The Securis door unlocked & slid open & we glanced back at the numerous little girls that had followed us up the stairs.

I nodded to them & gave Jack's shoulder a light push to exit, Camille right behind me. "So you know where to go?"

"Of course. When don't I?" I smirked taking the lead. The flood door was shut & I groaned, noting how the valve was missing to open the bloody door. "Okay. Scatter. Try & find a red valve."

Camille & Jack obeyed searching the area for it while I stood & waited, listening for anything on the other side that would prove to be a threat. Everyone stopped moving when we heard Jack's radio give a crack. _"And now you've hooked up with Tenenbaum, huh, kid? She's a regular Mother Goose. All right, fun's fun, kid, but now, go get stepped on by a Big Daddy, _would you kindly_?"_

"Found it!" Camille called out, raising it above her head in a small victory.

She rushed over & handed me the valve, which I promptly replaced it in its original spot. "Jack, give me a hand?" I questioned, slowly starting to turn the valve. With his help, the door had slid open enough for us to slide under. I didn't want to give any splicers a clue about where Tenenbaum was hiding.

We walked slowly up the walkway into Olympus Heights, noting how we were near the Mercury Suites. _"Huh? I said: Would you kindly go get stepped on by a Big Daddy?"_ Jack grinned when he didn't move to obey the command. Tenenbaum really did it. _"Ah, seems like Mother Goose has been playing around in your egg salad. If you won't dance to _that_ tune, I got others... Code Yellow."_

Jack let out a yell & his hand flew to his chest. He would have taken a nose dive right into the pavement, if Camille & I didn't grab a hold of his arms. "Jack?!" Camille exclaimed, her hand pressing against the one on his chest.

"Hey, say something?" I also exclaimed.

_"I just told your brain to tell your heart to stop beating. Not right off the bat, mind you. The heart's a stubborn muscle, but not _that_ stubborn,_" Fontaine explained with a dark chuckle making me glare at the radio.

Jack finally got his breathing under control along with the pain his chest was in & straightened up as best as he could. "I'm fine. I'm okay," He reassured, his voice heavy from the pain.

_"Once you are free of Fontaine's control, then you can have your revenge, & we can keep my Little ones out of his filthy hands,"_ It was Tenenbaum this time.

"We gotta double time it."

"Hawkeye, he's in pain," Camille tried say in order to help Jack.

I shook my head. "We have to hurry. We have no idea how many times Jack's heart can take it. He could die the next time. Jack, are you up for it?"

He nodded & gave Camille a reassuring smile. "I can do it."

_"That's it, kid. You're busto. My new friends will catch up with you soon. Ah, kid, I hope they make it quick."_

"Then let's move it!" I ordered taking off in a run into the Mercury Suites.


	32. Rapture Pariah

Dymond: Another chapter. It'll be easy for my dear CaliforniaStop to catch up since I'll mostly be following the game from here on out with a few tidbits of Jamie running off to go meet Sinclair & whatnot. Still haven't decided on the fate of Jamie possibly splicing, but it's an idea in the works. Onward my pretties!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~(The squiggles resent being mistreated & demand reviews for me exposing them to my stories all the time)

Jack gave another yell as Fontaine once again came over the radio & said, _"Code Yellow."_

This time it brought him to his knees as he coughed violently, dropping his crossbow. "Jack!" I exclaimed, kneeling next to him. Gritting my teeth at my newfound level of hatred for Fontaine, I grabbed Jack's arm & hauled him to his feet, pulling his arm over my shoulders. "Camille, keep an eye out," I ordered, securing a hand on Jack's waist, the other curling around the handle of his crossbow. He'd need whatever Suchong had & _fast_; we had to find this Lot 192 Suchong spoke of in an audio diary: the antidote to the mental conditioning dealt to Jack. Which also meant that the trip to Suchong's apartment was a complete waste of time other than to know that there was a leak in the joint since we were wading around in water about ankle deep.

_"I'm gonna miss this place. Rapture was a candy store for guys like me, guys who though they knew it all, dames who thought they'd seen it all. Give me a smart mark over a dumb one every time."_

Fontaine had made our lives hell just getting to Fontaine's penthouse & we weren't even halfway there. Figured out Anna Culpepper was for sure dead; drowned in her own bathtub by none other than Sullivan. Ran into Cohen who Jack had spared earlier & blew his as up to Kingdom Come

Going to Tenenbaum's apartment was a bust since Fontaine had his splicers tear the place apart, taking her sample of the Lot 192 with them & to Fontaine's penthouse, which was where Camille would come into play once we reached the devil's house. With his control over Rapture, it came complete with the control of the pheromone & having each splicer under its influence bend to his whim. His whim right now was our blood on the hands of the splicers sent to send us to our maker. We were putting up a decent fight, but we were running out of ammo & time.

Jack groaned as his chest gave him a throb, a throb that I almost could feel. "Hang on, Jack," I muttered, supporting his weight as best as I could, but I was a bit shorter than he was.

Camille wandered a little ahead, her shotgun primed to blow anyone who got in the way straight to hell where they belonged. "This way," She said, pointing to the stairs we had to go down again.

"Lead the way," I said, using the crossbow to motion for her to go first.

"How come..." Jack gulped down the saliva that had built up in his mouth. "How come... neither of you are like _them_?" He questioned, his chin jerking toward the body of a splicer he had stuck a bolt in earlier on our ascent up the stairs.

Camille faltered for only a moment before continuing on & not saying a word. I didn't say a word either. Jack didn't need to know our former lives as Fontaine's secretary & Sinclair's spy (as much as the term was asinine). All he needed to focus on was getting out alive & finding that damn cure. "And you don't answer. Typical," He chuckled deep.

"Jack, there's some things that you're better off not knowing," Camille said glancing back at him with a look that said 'I'm sorry'. "Just know that we're here to help & we're thankfully sane."

"ADAM changed everything about this place," I explained as we descended the next flight of stairs, making our way to the bottom floor & to the elevator that would take us to Fontaine's penthouse. I picked my words carefully as to not reveal _exactly_ what Camille & I used to do for a living. "It improved every aspect of a person, except his character. It drove people mad if they didn't get a dose once they were addicted. They killed anyone who might have even a drop. Personally, I like my mind the way it is, Jack. I'm not too keen on poisoning it."

Jack nodded & removed his arm from my shoulders. "I can walk again."

"Just be careful, kid," I advised. He let me keep the crossbow & opted to handle his machine gun. The final set of stairs brought us right to the elevator that would bring us up to Fontaine's penthouse & ultimately to the Lot 192 that we needed. "After you, Miss Adler," I gave a mock bow, directing her to the DNA scan & door code.

She shook her head & shouldered her shotgun. "Hopefully this thing still works," She muttered, putting her finger into the genetic lock. She didn't even wince when the needle pricked her finger & analyzed her DNA. The keypad gave a beep & the elevator door slid open. There was only enough room for two, so Camille went up first alone with her shotgun to clear the way a bit for me & Jack.

"Hawkeye?" Jack questioned.

"Yeah?"

"What's going to happen to me? The life I thought I had turns out to be a lie & all I've really been doing is sleep-walking through life. I don't even remember what I did on the surface anymore. I asked Miss Adler but she wouldn't give me an answer."

I sighed & ran a hand through my cropped dark hair, the bangs falling into my eyes. "I don't know. I remember little about the surface. Only an apple orchard. We'll both have to see what happens, aye?"

The elevator arrived again & we both squeezed inside, the crossbow poking uncomfortably at my leg & Jack's stomach. The elevator seem to move like a dying slug upward as we glanced around at the rickety little frame of the elevator that had been in the blast radius of a few grenades from splicers & Big Daddies alike. The elevator finally made it to our destination & the glass door slid open, allowing me & Jack to slide out.

I once again realized I made a mistake at leaving Camille unattended for longer than 5 minutes: she jumped over a fallen pillar with a pack of splicers hot on her heels. Jack sprung into action, spraying bullets in the splicers' direction & putting himself between Cam & the mob. I tossed a box of solid slug rounds at Camille before crouching, aiming deliberately for the spider splicer of the group since he would be the most troublesome.

He was still wearing a nametag from working in the Farmers Market which read Gregory. "Sorry about this, Gregory," I muttered, taking aim. "No, I'm not." With a pull of the trigger, the crossbow bolt shot across the area & imbedded right in the eye of the spider splicer, killing him instantly.

Quickly, another bolt was placed in the slot, the wire pulled back & locked. Camille blasted her shotgun desperately into the bodies of a few that came to close for comfort. Jack gunned down anyone who got in his way, setting people on fire, electrocuting them & bashing in their skulls with a swift swing of the wrench he still carried from the very beginning. A splicer tried to sneak up on Camille, but was met with a bolt to the skull. She nodded appreciatively at me before a look of horror spread across her features at something behind me. I spun around & was met with the ugly mug of yet another splicer, grinning like he just won the lottery. "Jamie!" Camille shouted followed by a few shotgun blasts, but I paid no mind.

The crossbow flew from my hands when my back hit the ground & my hand landed on the throat of the splicer over me, holding them back as best as I could. "Li'l fish wants ta play!" He laugh maniacally. He lifted his lower body up enough for me to take my chance & drive my knee into his groin hard.

He gave a screech & flew off, clutching his family jewels like his life depended on it. I pulled my switch blade from my pocket & flipped up to my feet. "You little bitch!" the splicer growled, glaring at me. I just smirked & flipped the blade around in my hand so I was gripping the blade instead of the handle & threw it.

The blade sunk into his throat & he went down, causing me to smirk. I glanced around seeing that Camille & Jack had dispatched the remaining splicers or the remaining splicers had taken off into the vents to escape the slaughter. I scooped up the crossbow again & removed my knife from the splicer's throat, wiping the blood on my trousers. "Well, that was fun," I commented, moving toward the door on the opposite end of the room. Camille & Jack heaved sighs & followed close behind, their guns trained on the room around them for any sign of movement.

I glanced around the foyer in a awed state. Despite the fact that I did _not_ like Fontaine, he lived like I've always dreamed. The foyer was large & spacious. the stairs in front of us split off to two different ends of the room & the walls were lined with bookshelves filled with books that Fontaine had probably never read (or did. I didn't know him personally to know if he read books). I wandered over to one & pulled off a book written by Lewis Carroll. "Alice in Wonderland? Fontaine actually reads this?" I asked Camille, opening the book. The spine was cracked meaning _someone_ had read it & that _someone_ must have been Fontaine.

"I never saw him read anything other than reports & bills. Come on. We gotta find that Lot 192," Camille explained, motioning toward the stairs with her shotgun. I nodded & replaced the book in its proper place & followed Camille up the stairs.

"And he has a polar bear," Jack commented, eying up the large, white-furred beast standing on it's hind legs. I shook my head at the stuffed beast & followed Camille to the left side of the staircase, entering what looked like Fontaine's private study. On the table behind his desk was a bottle labeled Lot 192 & we all smiled at the bottle.

"Lot 192. We actually found it!" Camille said, walking up to the table & swiping the bottle off the surface. It was a sickly yellow color & seemed to glow inside the bottle making us glance nervously back at Jack. "Bottoms up." She handed him the bottle & he glanced the bottle over nervously.

"Cheers," He mock toasted & downed the bottle in a few gulps nearly choking on the solution. He threw the bottle down on Fontaine's desk once he finished it & coughed, wiping his mouth.

"How do you feel?" My partner asked, looking Jack up & down for any signs of ill effect.

"I... I don't feel anything."

_"Yes!"_ Tenenbaum startled us over the radio. _"The compound is taking hold. The effects of mental suggestion are now gone, but there will certainly be side-effects." _Jack yelped when his hand sudden switched from being electrified to being on fire. _"Yes, Lot 192 has reorganized your entire plasmid structure. I should have know you would need a larger dosage. You'll have to locate another dosage to fully remove the effects. Yes, gut - go & find Suchong's lab in Artemis Suites. In there, no doubt, there will be more of this Lot 192. It is too dangerous to re-engineer your plasmids in the state Fontaine has put you in. You'll just have to make do with what you have."_

"And Fate throws us a curve ball. Let's get to Suchong's lab," I groaned, taking the lead back out of Fontaine's apartment.

It was a fight out of the apartment & to the bulkhead leading to Apollo Square since more splicers had meandered their way into Olympus Heights again. It was strange being home again as we entered the Artemis Suites & I looked around at the level of destruction this place had suffered. It almost made me upset since I could see my old door was blown off it's hinges, my home ransacked off anything of use. I wandered up to the door & let my hand trace the broken wood.

"What is this place?" Jack questioned, looking around. He yelped again suddenly & his plasmid changed to a red polyp: hypnotize.

I sighed & looked around at the damage inside. "It is... _was_ my home."

My stove was for some reason on _fire_ & it smelt like someone had burned their arm or something on it from the smell of burning flesh. My table was shattered & my chairs were strewn about. My fridge was open & barren (combination of myself packing up the food for Sinclair & I's escape to Ryan Amusements & splicers pillaging the place) & there was something staining the counter that I couldn't tell if it was condiments or blood.

My sitting room was just as wrecked. My couches were flipped & carved up like someone was bored & decided to slice up the fabric. My tele was smashed beyond all hope of repair & my desk was broken in half. I dared not think what the state of my bedroom was like.

"It looks like it was a nice place to live," Jack tried to comfort, glancing around trying to imagine what the home of Hawkeye would be like.

I shook my head & stalked back toward the front door. "I don't care anymore. Let's go get your cure." I led them out my dilapidated door & around the walkway up to the 3rd floor where Suchong's Free Clinic was located.

Inside, I nearly gagged at the sight. Pinned to the desk by a Big Daddy drill was none other than Dr. Yi Suchong himself along with an audio diary not to far from where he lay covered in blood. "Okay, this I gotta here," Camille commented, picking up the audio diary & pressing play.

_"Clinical Trial Protector System, Plasmid Lot 255, Dr. Suchong; client, Ryan Industries. Very frustrating day - I can't seem to get the damn Big Daddies to imprint on the little brats. The protection bond is just not forming."_

_"Papa Suchong, Papa Suchong!"_

_"Get away, stupid girl. Maybe if I modify the genetic sequence to allow for -" _The little girl on the tape became more persistent with getting Dr. Suchong's attention so much that it pissed him off. _"Get away, you filthy little shit!" _Camille winced when she heard the sharp sound of skin connecting to skin, meaning Suchong had slapped the little girl. That was when we heard the roar of a Big Daddy & Suchong scream for help. _"Oh god, you metal moron, what are you doing? Get back! AHHHH!" _The drill cut off the tape. So that's what happened.

Jack wandered off into the back labs & finally located another dosage of the Lot 192, slugging it down before his body could protest the liquid. _"Now you are having freedom. Suchong's drugs should have no hold on you. Take the bathysphere to Point Prometheus. It is time for this matter to be settled,"_ Tenenbaum instructed before signing off.

We grinned when Jack came back to join us, looking like he just had a 100lbs weight lifted off his shoulders. "How do you feel?" Camille asked, shouldering her shotgun.

"Free."

_"You broke the spell?!"_ Fontaine came over the radio like thunder. _"But laying all your chips on Mother Goose, it's not like you've never been double-crossed before, you know what I'm sayin'? Hell, you're in the company of my former secretary & a spy for hire. Hoof it to Point Prometheus. We'll discuss this like men. You, me, a submarine topside & more ADAM than you could possibly imagine."_

I glared at the radio & clicked it off. Jack stared at me & Camille for the tensest moment of our journey & asked, "What does he mean?" He was careful & suspicious which he was in the right. He knew virtually nothing about us other than our names (except mine) & that we lived in Rapture a long time.

"I used to be a secretary at Fontaine Futuristics. Specifically, Fontaine's personal secretary. But that was in the past, far longer than I'd like to admit."

Jack turned to me, expecting me to explain my story. I was about to tell him to shove it, when Camille elbowed me in the side & glared at me. I sighed & reluctantly answered, "I'm a spy for a man named Sinclair. I knew practically everything about everyone on anything. Happy?"

"You were a spy?"

"For lack of a better word, yes. I collected information for a paycheck. Listen, Jack, don't let this make you suspicious of us. Who _didn't_ double-cross you? Us. Who are you gonna listen to? Us or Fontaine?"

Jack nodded & gave us both an apologetic smile. "I'm sorry. I'm just..."

"Still smarting from Atlas' betrayal," Camille filled in the blanks.

I loaded a bolt into the crossbow & nodded toward the door. "Let's get the hell out of here. Fontaine didn't show up for his own funeral. We need to correct that." Camille reloaded a few more buck shots into her shotgun.

"And then we'll get out of here," Jack grinned taking the lead this time.

Camille grabbed my shoulder, forcing me to look at her. "Cam?"

"Promise we'll all get out together."

"What?"

"Promise me. Promise me that we'll get on that bathysphere & we won't ever look back. _You_ won't ever look back."

"Cam..." I sighed, noting the stubborn look in her eye that she wouldn't take no for an answer. "I promise."

She nodded, accepting the promise & walked past me, leaving me a little confused at what just happened. Why would she make me promise to get on the bathysphe-? The reason hit by like a pipe to the skull: Sinclair was in Ryan Amusements, way out of our way to go & get him & get on a bathysphere topside.

She wanted me to leave him here; leave him here by himself.


	33. Rapture Evil

Dymond: This will be my last chapter until CaliforniaStop catches up. Don't want to torment her too bad. And we've hit Point Prometheus! Holy shit! Almost to the end of the game, literally one more stop & then Fontaine's busto. Going to have to figure out _that_ scene, but until then hang on to your screens ladies & gentlemen! REVIEW DAMMIT! I ask nicely with a few 'would you kindly's in there, but I need more reviews! Make momma smile!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~(The squiggles would never be a Big Daddy)

The bathysphere never felt so warm. I glanced back & forth between the silent Jack Ryan & the fidgety Camille Adler, I myself being anxious. The bathysphere was taking us straight over to Point Prometheus: to our last stand against Frank Fontaine. Jack eventually looked up from his machine gun & gave us a weak smile before returning to it, tightening a few of the coils so that the weapon wouldn't jam. I couldn't return the smile no matter how hard I tried.

The bathysphere docked at long last & we carefully stepped out one by one, Jack taking point while Camille & I trailed behind. Ascending the stairs, we looked around at the dilapidated station that had suffered under the random Big Daddy rampages that went through here during training. Even the time board was blown out of the floor & sitting precariously on its side on top of a pile of rubble.

We weaved through the destruction to the tunnel on the other side & vaguely heard a splicer shouting something or another. Never thought that they'd make it here with the Big Daddies that were still trapped here. "Stay alert," Camille warned, her shotgun fully loaded & ready.

We approached the other end of the tunnel & realized that it wasn't a splicer, but Frank Fontaine rigging up a few security bots. For that moment we were glad that the door refused to open. "Oh blood hell..." I groaned, dropping to my knee & taking aim at the bots.

"I don't even want to see them walk!" Fontaine shouted at the bots before they beeped to life, flying over to our direction. The door still refused to open even with us standing next to it, so the bots could only do one thing: Shoot out the glass. Camille flinched when the glass bounced off her arms, but that didn't stop the buckshot that was placed into one of the security bots. That bot was finished off with an arrow to one of it's camera lenses.

Jack charged ahead, giving chase to Fontaine. "Jack!" Camille shouted after him, dispatching the second security bot. We both ran after the young man only to discover him banging on the door leading further into Point Prometheus & the Proving Grounds.

_"Scheiße! You let him get away,"_ Tenenbaum scolded us, sounding overtly annoyed. _"I need a moment for thinking..."_

Camille wandered over to the lock to try & see what she could, but she groaned in frustration. "The wires are completely shot. Hawkeye, what about the vents?"

I shook my head. "Above us is a spider splicer nest. It'd be suicide to go through those vents even if we're careful."

_"Ah!" _Tenenbaum suddenly said & I could almost picture her look of triumph at whatever she thought of, _"Ach, of course! This will be no problem. Find a Big Daddy & search his body. I would suggest you to be finding a dead one."_

"Kraut, what are you going on about?" I questioned.

_"Quiet. Just do it. I explain later,"_ She retorted & it took everything I had to keep my face impassive. Camille elbowed me & followed Jack to a nearby _dead_ Big Daddy who had been slammed through a wall, its heavy limbs strewn about like a rag doll. Made me wonder what exactly happened to earn this result. _"Do you see the suit control system? Sehr gut, get it. That is step one of turning you into one of those disgusting Big Daddies."_

Camille snatched the radio from Jack's hand with the chant of, "Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa! Are you out of your mind?"

_"It is the only way to get through that door fontaine went through. A Little One must open it,"_ The kraut explained hurriedly. _"And they'll only trust Jack if he looks like, sounds like & even smells like one of those big, stinking brutes."_

I crossed my arms loosely with my crossbow hanging off to the side. "This is crazy, Tenenbaum," Camille argued pacing the length of the Big Daddy corpse.

Jack shrugged & retrieved the control system from the suit. It came out with a short tug on a few wires & made me blink at the size. It was about the size of a dictionary with various cables & wires hanging from the box all designed make controlling the heavy suit a lot easier on the person grafted into the suit. Camille shoved the radio back into Jack's hands & growled, "Follow me."

"What did Tenenbaum say?" I asked, following behind her.

"She told me everything we had to get: The body suit, the helmet, the boots & the Big Daddy pheromone."

"One second you're calling her crazy, the next you're agreeing to run her errands," I commented plainly which earned me a glare.

"As much as I hate doing this to Jack, she's right. Those Little Sisters are our only chance through that door. Hopefully, Tenenbaum can fix Jack once we..." She trailed off.

I put my hand on her shoulder & said, "It'll be all right, Cam."

"You're lying through your teeth."

"Prove it." I stepped away & moved toward a nearby staircase. The staircase led past a library which I paid no mind to since there would be Big Daddy parts in there. "Where to, Miss Adler?" I asked, looking between the workshops.

"There," She answered & gestured to the Little Wonders Educational Facility, the neon sign fizzing & sparking from sustained damage. "They produced the pheromones there as well as conditioned the Little Sisters."

"Conditioned?" Jack questioned, following us to the door labeled 'main hall'.

Camille didn't answer & took the lead. The main foyer split of to go around a section of wall, one leading to desks, the other leading to a viewing area. _"We bred Little Ones to imprint certain smells, the pheromones. But this is not like putting on aftershave. You'll need three industrial applications of this stuff & then the Little Ones will be drawn to you like a bee to honey. You will have to gather three pheromones here, so that you smell disgusting, just like a Big Daddy,"_ Tenenbaum explained.

Camille wandered over to a desk & plucked a red vial off the surface. "Here. This is one of them." She handed it too Jack who took it & pulled the cork off.

He gave it a whiff & nearly gagged at the stench. "Smells like rotting fish!" He groaned, covering his nose. My hand flew to my nose at the stink emanating from the bottle, my face screwing up in disgust.

"You gotta do it," Camille reluctantly urged, pushing the bottle closer to him.

He sighed & dumped the bottle over what skin was available for purchase. The pheromone made me & Camille gag, but did it's job of soaking into Jack's skin, becoming a permanent smell to him. Jack groaned again & shivered uncontrollably. "Okay..." I gulped down the bile in the back of my throat. "2 more to go."

_"I can only be glad I am nowhere near you & that awful stink. Why the Little Ones are drawn to the smell of those pheromones is beyond anything I can understand."_ Me & Camille equally glared at the radio both thinking the same thing: Look who's talking, kraut.

_"Mother Goose really got her hooks into you,"_ Fontaine chuckled darkly over the radio & Camille froze up. I pushed her to continue on our search for the bottles. _"You can knock Ryan all you want, but the old man was bingo on one point of fact: You won't even walk 'til somebody says 'go!'"_

"Don't listen to him, Jack. He's getting backed into a corner," I reassured glancing over the railing. "Holy..."

The railing overlooked a little room with a single bed perfectly sized for a child with a pink blanket covering the mattress. There was a white bookshelf beside the bed with a little lamp resting on top. A teddy bear laid on the ground holding a gift box & a Little Sister needle not too far from it. In front of the bear was another bottle of the pheromone. "Hang on," I called to the other two & leapt over the railing.

"Hawkeye!" Camille shouted after me & flung herself at the railing.

I landed without a problem into the room & grabbed the bottle. I held up the bottle for her to see & tossed it up to her waiting hands. The door behind me didn't open when I pulled the lever, placed precariously out of reach of a child. "Shit," I cursed before glancing up.

I took a few steps back before running full sprint at the wall, using my momentum to kick off the wall & up, my hands outstretched. I barely caught the railing, but regardless, I pulled myself up again with a grunt. "That..." Jack muttered, staring at me wide-eyed. "...was amazing."

I just nodded. Camille shook her head at me & handed Jack the next bottle of pheromone. He administered it & thankfully we adjusted quickly to the stench so we could continue on. "How are we going to get that stench off of you?" I questioned, grimacing again at the smell.

Jack shrugged. "Hopefully Dr. Tenenbaum can fix it."

"Hopefully. Or else it's going to take a lot of cologne to get rid of that stench."

Camille led us to a back room & we paused. Numerous operating tables were scattered around the place, a few freezers for chemicals & a few television screens. "What is this place?" Jack questioned, glancing around.

"I don't know," Camille admitted, glancing around. "I've never seen this part."

We walked further into the room & spotted a bottle of pheromone on the furthest desk with a wide bay window overlooking the ocean floor. Jack walked up to the desk & reached for the bottle, but stopped. "Jack?" I asked approaching him. His eyes were fixed on a storage closet to the left with a shelf against the farthest wall. In a pile on the floor was the very familiar dresses of the Little Sisters.

A tear fell down Jack's face, catching me off guard. "Jack?"

"'No, Papa Suchong, I don't want to go on the table,'" He repeated. "That's what the ghost said. The ghost of a little girl." He leaned heavily against the desk staring at the bottle of pheromones in his hand. "This place... It's nothing but evil."

Camille didn't bother to place her hand on his shoulder like she would have to comfort him. It didn't take a genius to know that she indirectly helped with this, a fact that Jack had learned from Ryan before he died violently. Even if she was just Fontaine's secretary, she knew about it & could have stopped it, but she didn't. She just sat back & collected a paycheck. Not that I was any saint: I gathered information on people that Ryan wanted Sinclair to make disappear & some involuntarily became Big Daddies. Like Johnny Topside a.k.a Subject Delta. I saw his file on Sinclair's desk once & a quick peek lead me to conclude that Johnny was no longer human, but one of those hulking behemoths, specifically the first Big Daddy to bond with a Little Sister.

"Let's go. We've got more stuff to get," I said moving to leave the room.

_"Is good start. Now you need only to find the suit & the voice box from the other labs & you will be a proper brute. Get moving."_

Fail-Safe Armored Escorts held most of what we needed: The body suit & the helmet, but the boots were a problem. "Are you kidding me? They're in the library?!" Camille growled at the Accu-Vox recording Suchong had made to vent his frustrations.

"I'll go get the boots. Just find the voice box," I said, walking away from the two.

"Hawkeye!" Camille called after me. I stopped & looked back at them. "Take this!" She tossed her radio at me & I snatched it out of the air. "Be careful."

I nodded & attached the radio to my belt. "Same goes to you." I walked out of sight of them & into the library. I stared with wide eyes a rocket turret placed defensively between the narrow walkway that led further into the library. "Oh shit!" I shouted & ducked behind one of the bookshelves. The turret let off a rocket causing books & papers to go flying everywhere, raining down around me.

Glancing down at my crossbow, I cursed no bringing a shotgun or something. I took a few deep breaths & waited for another rocket to come out & explode before coming out of cover. Quickly aiming down the sights, I let an arrow fly down the barrel, causing the projectile to detonate prematurely, taking the turret with it. I grinned at the rain of debris & the scorch mark that tattooed the floor. "Not bad," I commented, stepping over the bits of charred metal.

The boots were easy to spot, but as I approached them, a splicer popped out from behind the counter, hurling fireballs at me. It was quickly silenced by a bolt to the head. I grabbed the boots in one arm so that I could maintain a grip on my crossbow & left the library, making my way down the stairs to wait for Jack & Camille.

I perked up at a heavy clunking noise & Camille chatting angrily from the tone, but I couldn't quite make out the words. Camille came into view first followed by Jack, clunking behind her in the Big Daddy suit & helmet that looked several sizes too big for him. I placed the boots in front of him & he stepped into them carefully. "Well, this is certainly different," I mused looking through the porthole at the man inside. "How do you feel?"

He grumbled low catching me off guard. "The voice box was a little more... permanent than we thought," Camille explained, looking at Jack with an apologetic look.

"Hope the kraut can fix him."

_"Yes, now this is a Big Daddy. Are you ready? No, go to the Little Sister vent by the Proving Grounds,"_ Tenenbaum ordered.

I glanced at the Little Sister vent nearby & motioned for Jack to go. "We'll be right behind you." He gave out a grumble & moved to the vent, hammering on it with his fist.

On cue, a little girl crawls out, carrying a Little Sister needle with her. She was cured of the ADAM slug, but it didn't make the needle any less ominous. "Hey, Mr. B, follow me!" She giggled walking toward the door. A little door at the bottom opened up & allowed her to pass through without any trouble. It took only a few seconds before the doors slid open & the Little Sister was standing there with a grin on her face. 'Come on, Mr. B, this way!"

_"The Little Ones will lead you to Fontaine, but you must protect them. Und bitte, it would mean very much to me if you will be gentle with the girls - mein kleines mädchen."_

Jack thudded past the doors & Camille & I followed at a safe distance behind so that we wouldn't startle the girl.

_"That's it, kid. It's been a long road. You don't even remember most of it. Put you on a sub where you were just a sprout. I really wound you up with that wife & child bit: 'Ah, me wee baby Patrick!' Maybe one day, I'll get me a real family. They play well with the suckers," _Fontaine sniggered & Camille's grip on her shotgun tightened.

"Don't listen to him," I reminded harshly, getting sick of repeating myself.

The Proving Grounds, once a museum that held no further use & was making no money so it was bought out by Fontaine to be used as a Big Daddy training ground, the displays of fish still intact surprisingly. The lobby still had the front desk with a cash register on top of it, no one bothering to remove it after clearing it of money.

We followed the Little Sister into the central atrium, arriving in time to watch the giant whale skeleton collapse onto the floor below, crushing a Big Daddy in the process. Across the atrium on another balcony was another Big Daddy - a bouncer - who let out a loud roar & disappeared through the doors behind him. "Anyone get a bad feeling?" Camille questioned, glancing to me.

I shook my head & followed Jack & the Little Sister through the nearby gate. "I see an angel!" The Little Sister said with a strange sense of glee & immediately drove her needle into the stomach of a corpse on the ground.

That triggered the yells of nearly a dozen splicers. "Here they come," I stated, crossbow prepped to shoot anything that came at us.

Like clockwork, splicers came sprinting down the hallways. Camille let off a few buck shots, blowing a few of them away, but others got too close for comfort. Jack was quick to blow away any that our shotgun shells & bolts missed. I ran out of bolts & before I had a chance to reload a new magazine of bolts, a splicer came sprinting down the hall. I stood & delivered a well timed kick to his head, sending him into the wall. I punched in his ribs, feeling each bone crack under the pressure of my punches, my last punch caving in his throat. He slumped to the ground, choking on his own blood & ultimately died. 2 more came down the hall & were met with my freshly reloaded crossbow sending bolts into their chests.

The Little Sister finally stood up from harvesting the ADAM from the corpse & called out, "Let's go, Mr. B!"

We had to repeat the process two more times, fending off both splicers & the rogue bouncer we saw earlier, Jack effectively taking the bouncer down with little trouble. "Let's never do this again," Camille voiced, her breath heavy from exertion. My own matched hers & Jack's shoulders were sagged from the weight of the Big Daddy suit with the added heavy limbs from lifting the heavy arms of the suit to even fire a weapon. And with Fontaine chiming through the radio at every turn, it became apparent how much splicing this man was doing from the way the sanity in his voice changed & the exertion it was under.

The Little Sister finally lead us to a room stocked up on everything we would need: grenades, ammunition, vending machines & a Gatherer's Garden in the corner. "Holy Moses..." I muttered, looking around at everything. I immediately moved to the stacks of crossbow bolts & pocketed a few packs, reloading the spent magazine with a fresh one. I repeated the action with the revolver (stolen from Camille) & pocketed a few more rounds for emergencies. Camille did the same with her shotgun & revolver & together we waited for Jack to finish prepping his own gear. The Little Sister crawled into the nearby vent & turned around, holding out her syringe for Jack.

_"There, you must use the needle of the Little Sister to drain Fontaine of his ADAM. It is the only way to defeat him. Fontaine waits above. There will be no going back from here. Make sure you are ready to face him before moving on."_

"End of the line," Camille breathed, her gaze fixated on the elevator that was conveniently big enough for the 3 of us, even with Jack's suit.

"In for a dime, in for a dollar."


	34. See All Evil

Dymond: And finally we get to the big battle with Fontaine! Nagging CaliforniaStop got this result! Huzzah! Oh well, onward my pretties!

DarlingEva - I LOVE YOU! The fact that you review makes me feel all warm & tingly inside.

CaliforniaStop - I can't believe this is the grand finale. The stage is set & the scene commences. Happily ever after? You sure as hell know there isn't going to be a good one. Oh well, I've never had this much fun writing a story in my life out of all the crappy stories I've written for fun. This one I was the most serious on, trying my hardest to keep Jamie from turning Mary-Sue (I think I did an awesome job of it). I love you! I love Camille! I love Bioshock!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~(SQUIGGLES!)

We were about to step on to the elevator when Camille, of course, stopped us. Why did I see this coming? "Let me go up first."

I shook my head. I knew what tree she was trying to bark up. There was no way in hell Fontaine would just _surrender_. I almost felt sorry for her really: Fontaine had instilled enough fear & really sunk his claws into her tiny little heart. Even now as he was ripping the organ from her chest, she still wanted to appease to whatever humanity he had left. "No way. You'll be mincemeat."

"_Please!"_ She begged. "Maybe I can talk him down, tell him to surrender..." My arm twitched to punch her straight in the fucking mouth. Jack let out a groan from his helmet, his tone displeased with the notion as well of Camille going to 'talk down' Fontaine from his determination to kill us in the most violent way possible. There would be _very_ little left that was actually Fontaine with how badly he was splicing himself.

I almost screamed at her, "You don't _want_ to kill him. Goddammit, Adler, I knew you didn't have it in you!"

"I-I..." She paused, her eyes clenching shut. "You're right. I can't. I told Tenenbaum this. She said... She said I had to try for _him_," She jerked her chin at Jack who gave a shrug showing he had no idea what she was talking about. I could feel my muscles tensing, itching to lay one right across her jaw, but refrained. "He's desperate. He's... spliced out of his mind. Maybe I can..."

"You can't do anything." My hand came up to her shoulder as gently as my anger would allow me. "He put all his cards on the table, Adler. He tried to _kill_ you! He tried to kill us! Remember? He fed you a heap of lies. He's a bastard. He's _not _walking out of here. If you can't handle that, then step aside. We'll put him down. Gladly."

My hand fell away & gripped tightly to my crossbow. Camille reached for the gate that blocked our access to the elevator, but her hand fell short, hovering over the handle. "You're right."

I blinked at the admission. "Really?"

"Y-Yes. I just... I panicked. I want... things to end well. I want him to give up. But I want my life _more_. There's no mercy in him. If I tried to reason with him, he'd just kill me. I don't want that. I want to get out of here." And I'd see to it personally.

"We will. Me, you, Jack, Tenenbaum & _Sinclair._" I purposely added Sinclair's name to see her reaction. Her face went blank for a moment: gotcha.

"Y-Yes. Sinclair." And a stumble of words. I'm sorry, Camille, but I'm _not_ going to leave Sinclair behind. Hell would freeze over before that happened.

Camille finally opened the elevator & gestured for us to step inside. My hand hovered over the button as I glanced at Camille & Jack, inhaling sharply. "Ready?"

"Ready." Jack banged a fist twice on the metal framing of the elevator in agreement. I really hope the kraut could fix him, it'd be a shame to see him suffer like this for the rest of his life. He didn't deserve that.

My fist hit the button & gate closed, the carriage going upward to our final destination. For a moment the steel wall gave way to plexiglass windows, revealing the cityscape that was once the beautiful Rapture, not a decaying corpse of what it formally was. I could see Sinclair Tower from our position & made my heart clench. Sinclair was still alone in the bowels of Ryan Amusements & this fight would determine whether or not I return to him again. I clung to to the memory of that night I spent with Sinclair, my heart pounding in my heart & numbing the ache in my joints.

"How will we... go back? To America? After all this?" Camille questioned, leaning heavily against the wall of the carriage.

"We won't know 'til we get there." If anything, I was going back to the UK, but one step at a time. Maybe my grandparents were still alive. Doubtful, but it was nice to dream. Sinclair would like the countryside, being from Georgia & Panama.

_"I remember when me & the Kraut put you in that sub. You were no more than two,"_ Fontaine rasped over the radio. He had already lost his damn mind, I could tell. He sounded _just_ like the splicers that roamed around, if only a type of madness that came with intelligence behind it. If he wasn't try to brutally murder us, I would have been impressed. _"You were my ace in the hole, but you were also the closest thing I ever had to a son. That's why this hurts. Betrayal, kid. Life ain't strictly business."_

I felt Jack stiffen from the arm touching my shoulder blade. I reached back & squeezed the heavy gloved hand.

The carriage careened to a stop at our stop & the door slid open. I was out first, scanning the area with a keen eye & my finger on the trigger, but saw no immediate movement. Jack & Camille were behind me, guns poised to shoot anything. "Where is he?" I questioned, glancing around at the clump of computers monitoring everything & the huge vats of ADAM. It was a creepy looking lair, that was for sure.

"I don't know..." Camille said, stepping past me. "Fontaine! Come out you sonofabitch! Don't fucking hide!" She's been hanging around me _way_ too much. Her mouth got worse.

I shivered when I heard the devil himself chuckle darkly, stepping out from behind a vat of ADAM & I nearly froze at the sight of him. He was a hulking giant of pure muscle & thick skin, dark grey in its tone. He towered over us, even Jack who was quite tall for someone of his stature. He was a humanoid, statuesque being that would definitely pack a deadly punch. "Ya made it," He seemed to purr, sending an unpleasant shiver up my spine. "Let's see: a malnourished amateur spy..." Who the fuck was he calling amateur? "...a weakling office worker & a walking test tube." He chuckled. "Ya shoulda backed off when I gave ya the chance; now you're gonna regret comin' up here." He walked toward us. "I _own_ this fuckin' city - you understand? _Me_. I'm _king_ & you're _nothin'_."

Camille was trembling at this point, her hands wringing her shotgun, desperate to do _something_. Don't fuck this up, Camille, please don't be a moron. "Go ahead, Cam," He dared. "Take your best shot, kid. Don't miss. I mean it." He spread his arms, giving her a clear shot. I would have stuck a shell right then & there, but this was _Camille_; she hesitated to cock her shotgun when it should have been prepped.

Before I could leap to yank her out of the way, Fontaine lunged forward, snatching the shotgun from her grasp. The metal was easily crushed under his inhuman strength & he tossed it aside. "Cam-" I was cut off when Fontaine's hand shot out & seized Camille's throat, holding her above the ground like she weighed absolutely nothing.

I was about to charge him when Jack grabbed my shoulder; _stopping me from saving my friend & the biggest pain in my ass I have ever met._ But I quickly understood why: I didn't stand a chance again him. I would die before I could even get a finger lifted from Camille's throat. I nearly screamed when he spun around & slammed her into a nearby wall, her head colliding sickeningly with the cold concrete. His arm reeled back & again the young woman was slammed into the wall.

"You made a big fuckin' mistake comin' after me," He growled, leaning in close to her. "I tried to warn ya - I really did - but you never did take a lesson well. Now, I'm gonna make an example outta you."

"No!" I shouted, breaking from of Jack's grip. I was cut off instantly by a swarm of splicers coming to Fontaine's defense.

The fight was on for myself & Jack. I ducked from a wild pipe swing, slamming my elbow into the nose of a splicer behind me & whipping him around to use him as a flesh shield from a machine gun spraying bullets towards me. I dropped the splicer & spared a moment to glance over at Camille & Fontaine only to have my breath hitch in my throat. Camille was slumped against the wall now, a knife imbedded in her side; her _own _knife.

"Shit!" I growled, sticking a bolt into the skull of another splicer before kicking another in the groin & flipping over his hunched over frame. The splicers would have to wait, Camille was _dying_. Camille ripped the knife out of her side & dropped it in lieu of pressing her hand against her side to attempt to stop the bleeding. "Jesus Christ," I cursed, ripping one of the sleeves of my shirt off to make a makeshift bandage. "That was a stupid move, Adler." I pressed the cloth over the wound & placed her hand over it to hold it in place.

Jack & Fontaine engaged in battle, gunfire, plasmids & roars being exchanged at an almost frightening pace that made me thankful that Jack was able to hold his own against Fontaine. "I really do have a death wish," Camille mumbled, her voice way weaker than it should be.

"Don't die, Adler," I said, pressing a revolver in her hand so that she would be able to defend herself should I fail to do so. "Don't do anything stupid either. I'm getting real sick of babysitting you."

"That's a lot of orders. I'll do my best."

I shook my head before spinning around to stick a crossbow bolt between the eyes of a splicer that tried to capitalize on me being temporarily distracted by Camille. Jack was faring no worse for wear against Fontaine who barraged him with his fists of ice & fire plasmids to try & take the young man down. I did my best to hold off the splicers that tried to attack Jack from behind, none getting too close to even land a hit on the boy's diving suit. I cursed when my crossbow ran out of bolts & I dumped it, grabbing a dead splicers revolver & continuing my attack, my switchblade appearing in my opposite hand.

My limbs were growing heavy as the fight continued & had no idea how long I could keep this up. I threw my knife into the throat of a splicer running toward Jack at a distance. My foot slipped against the blood coating the floor & a bullet clipped my arm, my yelp uncontrolled. I ducked behind one of the supercomputers & hastily bandaged my wound with a bit more material torn from my canvas jacket. "Shit..." I cursed, glancing out from cover.

Bullets took out a few splicers rounding up on me & I said a small thank you to Camille who also took out two bots even from her sitting position.

Fontaine let out a yell & charged towards the vat of ADAM, injecting himself with needles. "He needs to recharge!" I shouted at Jack. "He's getting more ADAM!"

Jack retrieved the Little Sister's needle from his belt & plunged it into Fontaine's body, holding fast while Fontaine wreathed underneath the far too large needle in an attempt to throw him off. Fontaine finally ripped Jack away & threw him aside like garbage, almost landing on top of me. The fight was on again, Jack seeming to have the upper hand this time.

I kept the splicers & bots off once again, finding a bot shutdown station nearby thankfully.

Fontaine bellowed again & returned to the vats & Jack was on him again. Fontaine's desperate attempts to punch Jack in the face was almost pathetic. Shots ran out again & one of the ADAM vats exploded in a display of glass & the genetic goop. Camille slumped forward from the splicer body she fished the additional revolver bullets from, her eyelids becoming heavy.

No, she couldn't sleep. Not yet. Not until I made _sure_ she would wake up again. I was next to her in an instant, growling out, "Oh no you don't." She'd hate me for this later, but I could have cared less: I slapped her clear across the face, startling her awake again. I dragged her dead weight to the wall again & leaned her against it, out of the way of any stray shots from what I could tell. "Hey, look at me," I called to her. "_Look at me_."

She obeyed thankfully. "I made you a promise, Cam. We're gettin' out of here - " A shadow fell over me & I cursed, "Shit!"

I barely managed to dodge the lead pipe that came swinging down on us. I rolled away & planted a few bullets into the splicer's chest. The splicer crumpled to the ground dead & I grinned.

Camille gestured toward Fontaine again who was limping this time toward the vats. Jack plunged the needle again & Fontaine fell, trying desperately to get Jack off of him. With a lucky knee to the man's stomach, Jack was kicked across the floor & he didn't get up right away. Fontaine staggered to his feet & hovered over Jack's prone body causing me to shoot to my feet. "I had you _built!_ I sent you topside. I called you back, showed you what you was, what you was capable of! Even that life you thought you had? That was something _I_ dreamed up & tattooed inside your head." Fontaine grabbed the Big Daddy's helmet shielding Jack's face from any real damage. "Now if you don't call that family: I DON'T KNOW WHAT IS!"

"Shit, shit, shit," I hissed. "Get up, Jack, c'mon, get up!" I raised my gun & fired frantically at Fontaine. I missed several times, but the ones that did hit brought Fontaine's attention to me which meant Jack wouldn't die, but now I was going to die. I backed up slowly toward Camille, putting myself between her & Fontaine who roared & charged.

Sinclair... I'm sorry.

A collective of small battle cries flooded the area & Tenenbaum's little brats came through the vents, Ruth included in the gaggle. They launched themselves at Fontaine's legs, throwing him off balance with their needles. They stabbed their needles anywhere they could: his legs, chest, arms, neck, stomach. The ADAM filled their needles easily, but they continued.

The ones he threw away landed hard on the floor & cried since they were just children. Ruth landed near me & I had my arms around her instantly to quell her crying. "That fuckin' Kraut. Unbelievable," I nearly laughed hysterically, my face in Ruth's hair.

"Get off me, you little shits!" Fontaine roared, but the roar fell on deaf ears.

And it was finally over.

Fontaine laid dead on the ground, the little girls cheering for his defeat, jumping around with their needles held high. I sat down heavily on the ground, bringing Ruth tighter against my chest. Jack stumbled over to us & ripped his helmet off, revealing the sweaty, pale & flushed face from exhaustion he was suffering. Jack's hand clamped over Camille's bleeding wound & moaned.

One of the little girls wandered over shyly & held out a shiny object to Jack. "Fontaine's genetic key..." I said softly, letting Ruth return to her sisters.

Camille pushed Jack away. "You need to undo Fontaine's hold on the city..." she rasped. "Unlock the bathyspheres. We need to..." She gasped as pain shot through her. Dammit, she was dying. "We need to _leave_."

I was instantly surrounded by Tenenbaum's Little Ones, Ruth making her way into my lap again, each little girl hugging on to my arms & torso. "Are we going to leave this place?" One asked & I nodded.

"You're getting out of 'ere. You'll know what the sun looks like."

Jack lumbered over & gestured to a nearby bathysphere port; Fontaine's personal bathysphere. I nodded & motioned for the Little Ones to follow Jack while I picked up the now unconscious Camille. She was still breathing so that was a good sign at least.

We rushed to the bathysphere port Jack gesturing for the little girls to clamor inside. Tenenbaum showed up & didn't say a word, only putting her hand on my shoulder & stepping inside. I sighed, staring at the interior of bathysphere, cold, damp, unused for months & my heart longed for it; to step inside & leave this place forever. But I couldn't leave; not yet.

Jack reached out & took Camille's arm from me, laying her on the seat opposite of himself & the Little Ones. Tenenbaum immediately went about trying to patch Camille up & stabilize her enough so she wouldn't die. Camille moaned from the administrations, her eyes cracking open. "Jamie..." She lightly called, her fingers twitching for some purchase on me.

I moved into the 'sphere & took her hand lightly with my own. "Camille, you're a royal pain in my neck."

She smiled, barely a quirk of her lips really. "We're going to the surface…" She chuckled under her breath. "At long last."

"You deserve it."

She sat up painfully, grunting as her strength mostly failed her. By pure willpower, she managed to sit upright by herself even with me & Tenenbaum hovering over her & her every move. "Where are we gonna go?" She asked.

"Anywhere."

"Where do you want to go?"

I sighed & answered, "Maybe back to the UK. See my grandmum & grandfather again." I didn't even realize until mentioning the UK that the accent had somewhat returned. It had been too long since I heard it from my own vocal cords that I almost missed it.

"And you're coming with, right? You promised." I inhaled sharply. "Jamie?"

"I'm sorry."

I stepped back out of the bathysphere. Jack looked at me confused as did Camille. I glanced back at Fontaine's corpse; growing cold & for a moment, Sinclair lying flat on the ground flooded my mind & wrenching at my heart. I looked back at Jack & thinned my lips. I put my hand on the bathysphere's heavy bulkhead door & started to close it. "Hawkeye!" Camille nearly screamed, "Jamie Donovan, don't you dare!"

Before the door could close fully, Camille's fist connected with my jaw. I hit the ground with her straddling my waist as punch after punch connected with some part of my face. It wasn't the strongest of punches I've ever had. In fact, I'd say it was the weakest I've ever felt, but getting punched still hurt. "You promised!" She growled, grabbing my hair & slamming my head against the ground. "Even if I had to drag you kicking & screaming!"

I caught her fist finally & with a small shift of weight, managed to plant my foot on her stomach & monkey flip her over me. She landed heavily on her back, gasping for the air that was knocked out of her. Her wound had opened up again & dripped on to the floor. "Sorry, Camille," I moaned, wiping my busted lip with the edge of my sleeve. "But I'm goin' to 'ave to break my promise."

Grabbing the back of her shirt, I dragged her toward the bathysphere again. With a grunt, I threw her on the floor of the bathysphere with strength I didn't even know I had. Adrenaline, I guess. I smiled meekly at her & closed the bulkhead, the automatic seals catching & sealing them air tight. "I'm sorry, but I can't abandon 'im."

Camille shot to the door from the floor, her fists slamming into the window. "Jamie! Jamie, no! Open this damn door!" She shouted, her delicate hands slamming painfully against the glass. "You _promised!_"

I sighed & shook my head. "I'm sorry, Cammy."

"Don't 'Cammy' me! Don't throw away your life for him!" She pleaded, sinking to her knees. Her burst of strength was disappearing as quickly as it arrived. Her hands fell from the glass to the ground limply. "Please..."

I looked to Jack & smiled. "Take care of 'er. She can't be left alone for more than 5 minutes without doin' somethin' stupid." Jack gritted his teeth, the sorrow evident in his face, but he nodded moving behind Camille & hooking his hands under her armpits to haul her into to the seat again. She struggled against him with what little strength she had, cursing me in every way she knew how. "I'm sorry, Camille Adler."

"Jamie!" She shouted one last time before Jack pulled the handle to 'Surface'.

The bathysphere slowly sunk into the Atlantic salt water, the water bubbling around the 'sphere. Camille's face streaming tears along with the Little Ones (especially Ruth). Jack nodded one last time to me, a sign of respect & an 'I'll miss you'. "Goodbye," I said once the bathysphere slipped beneath the water's surface & was gone.

I let out a shaky breath & turned back to the corpse of Fontaine. "I did what you couldn't even do, Fontaine. I got Camille out. I actually cared for her. Rot in 'ell," I spat before loading up my revolver & scooping up my crossbow again. It was deathly quiet now, a drop of water echoing loudly in the lair. I glanced over at a nearby chair that had managed to survive the onslaught enough to remain on its 4 legs. Draped over the back of the chair was Fontaine's canvas jacket that he wore on occasion with his Atlas disguise. I slipped my arms into the sleeves of the jacket, leaving it unbuttoned to shield me from the cold temperatures. My footsteps seemed loud as I walked to the elevator again & stepped inside, leaning heavily against the carriage siding.

Camille was gone. Jack was gone. So were Tenenbaum & the rest of the Little Sisters rescued by Jack. From what I knew of Jack, his kind soul would take those little girls in as his daughters; give them a chance topside unlike what they had down here. Sinclair & I were mostly alone now. With the exception of Sofia Lamb running around in Persephone, but she was the least of my concern.

I stuffed my hands into the pockets of my newly acquired jacket & I closed my eyes; listening to the sounds of the city & the elevator.

Once I was out of Point Prometheus, I was in the vents again, making it to Ryan Amusements in record time.

I dropped down in front of the entrance to the park & walked calmly to the maintenance room, knocking 4 times. The door slid open & Sinclair grinned at me. "I was gettin' worried," He joked, crossing his arms. "Did you finish your errand?"

My lower lip quivered & within an instant I was wrapped in Sinclair's arms, the tears silently streaming down my face. Sinclair placed loving & gentle kisses in my hair, nuzzling his cheek against the top of my head. I leaned back a bit & looked up into the emerald green eyes that never lost their shine even with the grey streaking his hair. He pulled me inside the maintenance room & locked the door behind us before taking me in his arms again. "You look like you've seen Death 'imself," He said, his smile faltering at my sorrow filled eyes.

I couldn't speak. I thought for sure that I would never see Sinclair again facing down Fontaine. Be held in his strong arms; inhale his musky scent; kissed by his soft lips. Instead of speaking, I placed my arms around his neck & kissed him hard - tasting him like I was dying for the evil I've seen could make the Devil sick.

In the distance, I could hear a few splicers gossip, "Didja hear? Atlas was _Fontaine._ And he's _dead_!"

"We must inform the Lamb."


	35. Rapture Trap

Dymond: And we continue on with Jamie Donovan & Augustus Sinclair in Bioshock 2! Yay! Onward my pretties! Fly! Fly!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~(Bioshock! 2!)

"May you be in heaven a full half-hour before the Devil knows you're dead."

* * *

7 years since the last I saw Camille Adler along with any hope of escaping. I went back for Sinclair, as I promised, but when we tried to make it to a bathysphere; we watched another bathysphere attempt to escape only to be blown to pieces by a torpedo. Screams of splicers echoed around the halls saying Sofia Lamb was on the rise. "The Butterfly has taken wing!" They chanted & screamed as they swarmed the areas Fontaine & Ryan had locked down from Lamb & her Flock. I thought I'd never hear that damn chant again, but fate was a cruel mistress.

We retreated back to Ryan Amusements; a place where Lamb had no interest in even approaching much less controlling. For now: Ryan Amusements was ours. Our safe haven, our home, our prison - Just myself & Sinclair alone in a corpse of an amusement park. We scavenged what we could for food, broke vending machines open when we could, stealing whatever ammunition & guns we could left by the security & splicers I managed to take down. There were days that we'd go without food more often than I'd like to think about. Sinclair even tried to starve himself to give me just a bigger portion of food for energy, but I quickly ended that notion.

For the most part, it was quiet.

Until I heard an upsetting mantra that I thought I had long forgotten when I was scavenging for food. "Up, up, Mr. B! No time to waste!" I shot to the railing outside of the apartment I was in & nearly screamed in frustration.

It was a Little Sister; dirty smock, glowing eyes & all. And following behind her was a Big Daddy, new from the looks of it. Most of the Big Daddies had been taken down by Jack to save the Little Sisters. The Little Sister jumped from block to block like she was playing hopscotch. It made no sense. The remaining Little Sisters were too old from when Jack was here. They were turned into those Big Sisters running around… There was only one place these new little ones could come from: The Surface.

"Dammit Lamb …" I groaned, slamming my hand against the metal railing. "Why did you do this?"

I sighed & wandered back into the apartment I was pillaging. There wasn't much: a few cans of vegetables, meat & beans along with a few jars of fresh water - enough to hold us over for a few days at least. I stuffed them all into the backpack I carried & slung it over my back, looping my arms through the straps. I flipped down the butterfly mask, I was gone from the apartment & slipping down the hallways to avoid any attention from the splicers that littered Mercury Suites.

I arrived relatively safely at the maintenance office in Ryan Amusements & set the backpack down on the mattress. "Picked up a few cans of food," I reported to Sinclair who opened the bag & stacked the cans in the wooden crate we located, joining the others.

The jars came out next & he smiled. "Where do you find these things?" He joked, setting the jars in the crate as well.

I removed my jacket & sat down on the mattress, resting my back against the cold wall. "I'm just that good," I smirked, closing my eyes for a few moments. I smiled lightly when I felt Sinclair's lips press against my own in a chaste kiss before he settled on the mattress as well using my thigh as a pillow.

I didn't say a word about the Little Sister in the Mercury Suites for the rest of the night. It was just a moment of comforting silence that I was going to enjoy & wash away the thought of that little girl with the brute behind her & who she belonged to on the surface. The kidnapping would cause a panic with her parents (if she had any or if they were still alive for that matter) & cause her parents to alert the authorities. Witnesses & stories would spring up; someone would see the connection & someone would eventually follow the trail of blood to Rapture. It was only a matter of time.

Maybe Camille had noticed it. I didn't hold my breath though.

My fingers raked deftly through Sinclair's ever graying hair as he softly snored in his restless slumber, sleeping avoiding me for umpteenth time. I found solace in listening to Sinclair breathe, the soft feel of his hair, the weight of his head on my thigh; everything reminding me that this was real & Sinclair was still alive despite my imaginings on several occasions. It didn't change the fact that we were _still_ down here after 8 years, but it helped a little to deal with the fact.

Over the years, I was showing my own signs of my age & the damage my stress was doing to my body. My face held a few more wrinkles than I would have liked, but at least my hair wasn't graying yet which was a happy thought. It was still short, having been cut not two days prior & I found that having long hair felt strange when I tried to grow it out years ago. I still had most of my strengths & weaknesses, but the weaknesses were starting to affect my performance against splicers, slowing me down considerably. I was still faster than most splicers, but the spider splicers were the main problem I had to deal with. Often times I had to retreat during a fight or get struck down trying to hold them off. I didn't favor dying just yet.

My normal white shirt & trousers were still there; the only clothes that seemed to be around anymore along with a canvas jacket I stole out of a war veteran's apartment that still had some of the embellishments from his time during the war. It was comfortable enough & sturdy to withstand me crawling through the vents. Even if it got caught on something it wouldn't tear.

35 years old & still kicking. By now, most women would have been married for about 10-18 years & have had a couple of kids with their husband, but I was not like most women & I was also at the bottom of a damn ocean; waiting to escape or waiting to die. I didn't know. Sinclair often joked about it, calling me an 'Old Maid' but I responded that he neither had a wife or a family like a typical business man would. He proposed marriage in response & I punched him in the chest for making a joke about getting married to me.

He knew fully well that I would not sit back & be the typical housewife.

I finally forced myself into a restless sleep as well, my heading lolling against the wall.

For several days, nothing had changed thankfully. The monitors showed no activity outside of our little room but more Little Sisters were spotted. That little girl must have been one of the first that Lamb had abducted. Or the first successful Little Sister. Either way, she was reawakening Tenenbaum's research to keep her little flock docile by gathering ADAM again. She also was working on an experiment that involved her own daughter, Eleanor Lamb. I couldn't dig up more on the subject since she didn't say much to her splicers, nor did she leave her research lying around without a guard with it at all times.

I started to keep track of when Little Sisters would pop up, marking down their descriptions & the days they would wander the halls of Rapture with a Big Daddy over the span of a year. Any that actually said their name I wrote down as well (a few including Elena, Chantel, Mary & Maura). These little girls belonged to someone on the surface & if I could at least help keep them organized, it would make returning them to their families all the more simpler. It was a pathetic feat, but it kept me busy at least after 7 years of doing nothing.

I also watched the Big Sisters that ran around. They served like Big Daddies to the new Little Sisters, only taking on Big Daddies when they didn't like how things were going. They took down the Big Daddy & took the Little Sister for themselves. They enforced whatever Lamb decided through a new sort of mental conditioning, Lamb always reciting over the PA system "Big Sister is always watching. To steal ADAM is to steal from the Family."

The Family: A load of bullshit. And Grace had fallen into the trap of this 'Family' long ago & I dared not seek her out anymore. The Family was more like sacrificial lambs for the slaughter complete with a church in Siren Alley to make the sacrifice more occult-like. "The Child of the Lamb," 'Father' Simon Wales preached day in & day out. He was the one who torpedoed that bathysphere that had tried to escape under orders of Lamb. Two mostly sane people left to scream as they watched a torpedo hurl toward them - a cruel end.

I hid in the shadows with my stolen splicer mask, watching Lamb walk about with precision with a smile of a snake on her lips. I always wondered made Lamb so enticing to that moron of a woman I babysat for years. I found Sofia Lamb to be exactly like an Egyptian asp coiled up tight & ready to sink her fangs into anymore who tried to step on her. The person would survive the bite physically, but the poison would kill them shortly after.

Sofia Lamb was a bigger threat than I previously imagined for her agenda remained mostly unknown. Ryan & Fontaine were easy: Ryan wanted total control over his city while Fontaine wanted to take it over completely. Sofia Lamb's agenda seemed like she wanted control over Rapture, but her actions did not match those of Ryan & Fontaine. It was her people that took over Rapture, she just guided them.

It drove me mad not knowing what Lamb was planning to do with the decaying city & her army of splicers.

Sinclair had noticed. "Darlin', don't stress yourself with ol' Lamb & her collective little farm."

I threw down Camille's revolver on the table & leaned back in the wooden chair. A daily task of inspecting, cleaning & repairing had kept the relic alive to take lives another day. "Lamb is the only thing standing between us & getting topside. I must know everything about her if I am to approach her." I rested my chin on my fist, elbow propped on the table. "But she's locked up her secrets as tight as Fort Knox. If I could just get a foothold inside…"

"There's always Gracie."

"Out of the question. I am still holding up that end of our deal."

Sinclair held in a sigh of frustration & merely smiled his businessman bearing still intact even after all these years, but even now I could read him like an open book. "What's for breakfast?" He asked to break up the tenseness.

"Beans, beans, & more beans. Take your pick," I answered with a small smile.

"That's it? Really?"

"Maybe if you close your eyes, you can imagine its catfish," I joked tossing him a can from the crate. He shook his head & yanked out his pocket knife to carve open the can.

"You have to admit: that was the best meal you've ever had," He pointed out.

I only smiled & refrained from reminding him that I had nearly died before I had that meal since I really didn't want to relive that moment of my messed up life. The ATLAS scar still burned every now & then when the memory tried to creep its way into my dreams & it forever remained wrapped up in a bandage to shield it from my eyes & Sinclair's.

I carved open my own tin & gulped down the cold beans & gravy that came with it. Nothing was put to waste… Sinclair grimaced at the taste & looked to me. "This is awful."

I snorted a laugh & finished off the last of my beans. I often forgot how much Sinclair was used to a life of privilege while I lived off of canned beans, if I got it. He dumped the tin in another crate & pulled out a pack of Lucky Stripes that I had snatched from Fontaine's office years prior. "What's the occasion for smoking those?" I questioned, disposing of my own tin.

He only smirked & lit one up, puffing happily on the cancer stick. Just felt like it. I stood up & pulled on my jacket. "I'll be gone for a few hours," I said, grabbing my pack as well.

"Where to this time?"

"The Adonis."

"Why there? It's a resort."

"No offense, love, but you stink," I retorted, opening the door. "I'll see you in a while. It'll mostly be radio silence."

"Gotcha." He gave me one last kiss before shutting the door behind me.


	36. Rapture Deceives

Dymond: And here's another chapter of See All Evil! Hurrah! Going into 1968. I'm working out how this will play out, but Jamie is in for a surprise & a world of hurt. Enjoy! I'm editing my own idea of what happens with Gil Alexander since it explains that Gil's transformation happened in 1967, but this is set a year later. That's you're only clue as to what's going to happen in the near future.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~(Squiggles in Rapture 1968)

I wandered Medical Pavilion, sticking to the shadows for the most part & looking for medical supplies. I had enough aspirin to but someone in a coma, bandages, & antiseptic, but there was one more thing I needed. There was only one place I would find it though: Steinman's old office. I couldn't stop a manic grin from crossing my face, knowing that he's been rotting down here for years after Jack had killed him. My own paranoia almost had me imagining Steinman emerging from the darkness with a scalpel ready to cut me to ribbons. I shouldered open the door, catching the musty whiff of an unused office. The papers on the desk were still scribbled insanely with red pen.

The medical cabinet not far from the desk became my target. I broke the glass & rummaged through the different labeled bottles until I came across the one I was looking for: potassium chlorate. Not far from it was petroleum jelly. "Lamb's in for a pleasant surprise," I smirked stuffing both containers in my pack. I was never one for explosives, but if things proved to be out of my control to the point where Sinclair & myself could die I was going to make sure Lamb never saw the light of the sun.

_"Attention! Augustus Sinclair has been spotted in Pauper's Drop. All activities of the Family are to be ceased until he is apprehended."_

"What?!" I gasped, spinning on my heel & hauling ass out of the Medical Pavilion. "Augustus, what the hell are you doing?!" I hissed to myself, leaping into the vents.

I dumped the bag though an opening to one of the safe spots me & Sinclair established before continuing on to Pauper's Drop. I didn't know what the hell Sinclair was doing, but there was no way I'd let Lamb get to him first. I could hear the splicers rattling away in different sections of the vents, making their way to Pauper's Drop under Lamb's orders.

I dropped down on top of King Pawn & hid behind the sign, looking for any sign that Sinclair was there. A mark on a window, a rock formation, anything that indicated where Sinclair was hiding... But there was nothing. "What the...?" I questioned, sliding down from the roof to the ground. Even if he was compromised, he'd at least leave a little mention of where he was. This wasn't our first evasion of Lamb & it sure as hell wasn't going to be the last. "Where are you?"

I jumped when my radio crackled & Sinclair's voice came through._ "Jamie, where are you?"_

I snatched the radio off my waist & pressed the receiver. "Pauper's Drop. Where are you hiding?"

_"Get outta there!"_

Before I could react, splicers of all classes surrounded me, meat hooks, plasmids & guns aimed in my direction. Fighting out of this one was not an option at this point, not without the risk of dying. I chuckled lightly to myself in mild disbelief. "The bitch... You got me. Sinclair was never here, was he?"

Lamb stepped through the group, no weapon seen aside from the satchel she carried. How humiliating - to be taken down by an unarmed woman without so much as a drop of blood drawn. "Sinclair was never the target. We had to lure you out. It took me a while, but eventually I connected the dots. There were whispers of an unknown woman with Sinclair." Her voice was really grating on my nerves. She didn't talk to me, she talked down to me, like I was something less than human. "You were there during our liberation of Persephone, you were the one who helped him escape. You were there when Fontaine was taken down allowing the son of Ryan to escape Rapture, but you came back from Sinclair. That is the only thing that confuses me: Why would you come back for Sinclair?"

Before I could answer, a pipe was brought across the back of my knees, forcing me to the ground. My arms were jerked hard behind me, almost pulling them out of their sockets. "My reasons are my own," I growled out at her, glaring up at her in my own defiance.

"Still untrusting even after all of these years. I can tell your attitude has changed, but it hasn't toward me."

With a wave of her hand, a cloth was planted over my mouth & nose. Chlorophorm... Cheap... trick...

My world went dark.

[page break]

I woke up several hours later, everything blurry & white. And cold. My clothes were gone & replaced with some flimsy material, probably a hospital gown. I slowly sat up when my vision cleared, the after effects of the chlorophorm still fresh meaning it couldn't have been more than a few hours from the initial dose.

My hand flew to my head at the throbbing headache. A bottle caught my attention. Aspirin. Next to them was a plastic cup of water. "How considerate," I muttered taking the bottle & popping a few pills & swallowing them down with a gulp of water.

The room I was locked in was an alarmingly clean gray walled room for a city falling to ruin. The mattress was the only thing that indicated how shitty Rapture was from the gray room since it was moldy & smelled like fish. Other than the mattress, there was no other furniture. No chance of allowing me to make a shiv.

The door had no handle on the inside either or a keyhole for that matter. Lamb had thought through my little prison. I'm impressed.

Lamb entered on the 3rd day of my imprisonment with a notebook tucked in the crook of her arm & an Accu-Vox. She closed the door gently & stared at me, the clipboard making her way to her hands along with a pen. "Good evening, Hawkeye," Sofia greeted, her tone monotonous to disguise any contempt she had for me.

"Lamb." I leaned against the wall on my mattress, crossing my arms.

The door was opened again & a splicer came in with a chair, setting it directly in front of the door - Blocking my exit. Lamb took her seat & crossed her knees with the sophistication of the well-mannered British woman she was. "What is this? One of your therapy sessions, doc?" I questioned keeping my tone indifferent.

"It is as you want it to be," She answered, her pen writing something down on the notebook. I copied her hands movements to pick out a few words: Defensive. Tempered.

"Do your worst."

"I'm going to ask you some questions. Feel free to answer them as you please or simply pass. This is just a preliminary session," She laid down the ground rules. A therapy session? Really? "I understand that you are in the employment of Augustus Sinclair. Can you explain how that came to be?"

"Pass."

She scribbled on her clipboard & this time I couldn't catch what she wrote. "Grace tells me that you were young when you came to Rapture. How old were you?"

I shrugged & answered, "14, I think."

"Did you come with your parents?"

"Pass."

Again, she scribbled something down. Family. Problems.

She had no clue. "I'm done with the questions, doc."

Sofia perused her lips & set her pen down on her notebook. "Very well." She set the notebook on the ground & set the Accu-Vox in her lap. I looked the Accu-Vox over & noticed something odd about it. There was a crusty dusting along the metal casing, brown in color & it took me a moment to realize that it was blood. "I'm going to play something for you & you're going to tell me what occurred with it."

Her manicured nail pressed play. _"Where is Atlas?!"_ My blood froze solid in my veins. I knew that voice. The voice that has haunted me for years, hounding my sleep, waking up in the middle of the night & feeling my arms to make sure there was no blood, that the ATLAS scar wasn't fresh. Sullivan. It was my interrogation tape…

"_I don't know! I've told you! Please!" _I flinched when I screamed on the recording. I knew when I screamed like that: The beginning of the ATLAS carving.

"Turn it off," I ordered, but it wasn't strong at all. I was reduced to a shivering girl again. The girl on the tape who screamed for mercy, screamed for God, screamed for anyone to hear me & save me. I winced again as another scream crackled from the old speakers. "Shut it off!"

She hit the stop button. "Where the fuck did you find that?" I demanded standing up sharply.

"Does it matter where I found it? What occurred here?"

"Well, what the hell does it sound like?!" I carded a hand through my hair, staring at the Accu-Vox like it was Sullivan himself.

"You tell me."

"Oh really? Really? What do you want me to say? To come to terms with what happened to me? I've had years to come terms with what happened to me."

"Then tell me exactly what happened."

I leaned until I was within close proximity. "Pass." I sat down on the mattress.

She gathered up her items & left with a small nod of her head. I leaned against the wall & cradled my head in my hands

For a week my only visitors was Lamb & a few different splicers, but when the splicers came, they would only drop off poorly made food. When Lamb was there, she wouldn't utter a word about Sinclair, asking me questions about my life before Rapture & of course about the torture which made it impossible to sleep at night. Lamb seemed to know how I ticked about as much as I did her. She was studying me like I was studying her. I gave her the cold shoulder most of the time, but a few times I would throw her a few half-assed answers to keep her coming because the more she came, the more that door was opened & the more I could discover where I was exactly. I already established I was in the Fontaine Futuristic Labs from the faint sign in the background.

I wanted to set that damn Accu-Vox on fire. And it made me miss Sinclair. I wanted to curl up in his arms, inhale his spicy cologne for relief, & clutch the back of his shirt like he was going to disappear. I wanted him to whisper soothing words in my ear, kiss my forehead, my cheeks, my lips to settle my breathing, to tuck my head under his chin until I fell asleep.

My attention went to the door when I heard a key get inserted. I sat crossed legged in the middle of the mattress, watching for any threat to come. The door opened at the perfect speed, not too fast to show anger, or too slow to show caution. Lamb still thought of me as no threat to her which both pissed me off & made me admire her courage. What I didn't expect was for Dr. Gil Alexander to be behind her as well, but something seemed off about him. He was showing signs of extreme gene splicing, but not in any combative plasmids of physical enhancements. More like mental enhancements. What was Lamb doing to Alexander?

Gil approached me, his steps unsteady & he dropped down to his knees next to me. He grabbed my wrist & started to examine me from top to bottom. "What do you think, Dr. Alexander?" Lamb questioned, cupping her elbows. "Will she work?"

"She's s-strong & lithe. Even with her age, her b-body is in exceptional condition. She may be able to a-adapt to the process." He even sounded severely spliced with a cocktail of different things that I couldn't even identify even working with Sinclair.

"Process?" I questioned furrowing my eyebrows. "What process?"

"I have need of you. For our Utopia to succeed, I need a vessel for those dreams to become reality. The vessel needs a protector. Do what you must, Dr. Alexander," She smiled & exited the room. A few more splicers entered with a blunt weapon.

"Dr. Alexander," I said to gain his attention. "What's gonna happen to me?"

He didn't answer. He stood up & nodded to the splicers who grew devilish smirks in the process. I was knocked unconscious yet again by blunt force trauma this time instead of chlorophorm which I honestly would have preferred.

I awoke several hours later, noting that I was in a completely different room, sore as hell & my vision blurry. I tried to sit up & touch my head, but my hand was restrained & I couldn't sit up at all. I looked down & noted that my hands were bound to a table & that I was as naked as the day I was born. Along with a new scar traveling from my ribcage to my naval that looked fresh, but was healed meaning ADAM was used. I looked around for anything else; surgical tools, ADAM vats & what looked like a container to hold a creature inside.

I stiffened when I felt _something_ move inside my stomach. I stared at my stomach in horror when it became clear _what_ was inside me & the procedure Lamb was talking about: She implanted me with an ADAM Slug…

I screamed.


End file.
